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sunboki · 2 months

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— ENDLESS WINTER. a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x f. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. 12k words

AUG'S NOTES. if there’s ever been a more spontaneous fic in history it would be this… every sentence is write is purely self indulgent…. (genuinely a written version of the stories i make in my head while laying in bed)

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

It’s a fever dream walking into the Kingdom that, compared to yours, looks positively flourishing with life. Beasts of all kinds roam about, carrying on with their daily lives, oblivious to the winds of death they’ve swept your way.

Everything in your body feels as if it’s shutting down, unable to feel the sensation of your legs as you trudge forward, the younger, much kinder Beast ensuring you kept pace.

Freezing temperatures carry on the longer snow falls, gluing strands of hair to your forehead, blanketing your lashes while your nose runs incessantly.

In front of you now lies the castle, far grander than you could’ve ever imagined. Twin spires peek above the low-hanging clouds, stone columns towering above.

From your distance you spot two knights positioned on either side of the entryway, large armored helmets with hawk feathers adorning the ridges.

One knight stops your ascent, the light-haired man rolling his eyes profusely.

“Minho, this is important.”

“Important enough you’re bringing a Mage into the Kingdom?”

His voice smooth as honey, he sports a dominant tone when speaking. Stare observant, he watches the other Beast’s expressions with uncanny precision.

“Because if you haven’t noticed Hyunjin,” He leans forward a bit, whispering. “You have the entire Kingdom’s attention.”

At this, either of the Beasts who escorted you turn around, and upon doing so are met with hundreds, if not thousands of eyes boring into their soul. Whether it’s younger Beasts or aged soldiers, those heinous vermillion orbs seem to see through you.

You gulp.

“C’mon,” Hyunjin harshly beckons, nudging you forward through the gates with the younger quick on his tail.

Every color in the Palace is monochromatically grey, although strikes of royal blue reside in large drapes hung from perched balconies.

Similar guards to those outside sift throughout the room, familiar hawk feathers litter everywhere in sight, paving paths to the core of the room where a throne sits.

Pointed edges flank either side of the massive chair, the ocean blue rug underneath reflecting up and out of the ceiling — a glass design stretching wide across the throne room, emphasizing the dusky weather outside.

According to the younger Beast whose title you learned as Jeongin, the King was currently participating in a hunt with Changbin (the lead hunter of the Palace), so after hasty appreciation of the sheer volume of this breathtaking castle, you’re forced toward the dungeons.

Jeongin wears a pitying frown, promising to return with some food to your chambers in the case the King doesn’t arrive for a while.

At least someone in this Kingdom doesn’t insist you’re beheaded.

“Finally, somebody else is here.”

A voice erupting from the darkening depths to your right make you jump, chained wrists clanging abruptly. Through minimal lighting of the burning lamps hastened upon the walls, you make out the silhouette of a man, face bunching in a sweet manner when he smiles.

Unusually, his hands aren’t chained.

“What’re you in here for?” You begin, gaze narrowed in confusion. The chubby-cheeked stranger smiles haphazardly.

“I would ask you the same thing. I’m the King’s Advisor, he just gets tired of me and puts me in here sometimes,” Your chamber-mate sighs, and once you take in what he professed, the urge to laugh becomes too strong to control.

Laughing for the first time in quite a while is sort of relieving, especially when this new acquaintance of yours begins whining his dismay, aimlessly trying to hush your giggles.

Red eyes. You can see them blinking up at you, gleaming when he grins his pointed teeth.

Quickly pausing, you wait in horror as he gradually sniffs in.

Your stomach sinks.

“Wait… You’re a Mag—“

His phrase is cut off by a loud ringing noise, a familiar echo of keys tunneling down the dungeons stairwell.

Another stranger unlocks the door. He’s burly, with curly hair in disarray. Cuffs of animal fur wraps around defined biceps, his top a tight-fitted arrangement of fur and woven leather paired with small iron spikes studding the shoulder lining.

A scar passes down the corner of his lip, long since healed but remaining faded.

“C’mere,” He ushers, voice gruff and rumbling when he unlocks your shackles, big hand pushing you forward up the stairs.

If anybody here had pure Beast in their bloodline, it would be this man. His demeanor is rough, but his touch on your back is surprisingly gentle whilst guiding you upward.

Again you’re granted with the wondrous sight of the Throne Room in all its historic glory, although your gaze directed at the floor keeps you ignorant to so many heads bowed, so many voices cast to silence upon the click of footsteps approaching.

And when you look up, you meet strikingly blue eyes—perhaps a genetic mutation of a sort.

They’re stunning, enrapturing almost, and you find the need to break eye contact immediate, more dire than normal while staring down at you.

Plump, full lips and perfectly sculpted facial features seem that of a Greek god’s, too ethereal to exist in your reality. A glittering, silver crown sits stark atop a black nest of hair.

Either arm rests on the sides of the throne, and you swore you’d never seen someone look so, King-like. That, and the massive cape of wolf-skin draped over his back.

A devil, dressed as an angel.

“Your Highness, this Mage was found near the L/N Kingdom by Hwang Hyunjin and Yang Jeongin while scouting the territory.” A palace-woman announces, the same guard who lingered outside, Minho, standing to your side.

Your blood boils, disregarding every ounce of amazement once inhabited.

It’s him. The man responsible for the demise of loved ones you couldn’t count on all of your fingers and toes.

Minho, as if sensing your frothing rage, mutters through his helmet a staggered warning—remaining upright and unmoving at attention.

“Do not move and do not look into his eyes unless you’re asking for death.”

Your patience dissipates, lip twitching involuntarily.

You can’t remember the last time you were genuinely angry. You were happy, surrounded by people you loved.

Those people weren’t here now, they were killed.

“You murderer! You’re a—“ Your attempt at lashing out at the King stalled when Minho kicks the crevice between your knees, forcing you down on the carpet below.

“Monster! A bloody— fucking— Monster!”

Palace representatives gasp their bewilderment, some beckoning you away to the dungeons, others urging Minho to end you right here and now.

It wouldn’t matter, would it?

The King’s raised hand stalls the accusations, his familiar clicking footsteps nearing closer till he stands before you.

Shifting down into a squat, the man tips your chin up to meet cerulean again, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“Don’t get it mixed up little one,” He murmurs, the pad of his thumb controlling your movement.

“I did not kill your family. Your family killed themselves.”

Fist sharply winding around for a punch, he catches it before you can even register your predicament, iron grip strong enough you fear he might just snap your wrist in half.

“And I wouldn’t recommend fighting back, otherwise I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Concluding his threat the further he bends your wrist, you whine, face scrunching from the pain until he finally stops, amusedly surveying your expression.

Denying your own enraged shaking, you suck your teeth, focus vehemently pinned onto him.

“Why would you care about my safety?” You snarl, trying to wriggle his hold off to no avail.

“Because,” The King cocks his brows. “I like you.”

About to spit another word, he interrupts you, index tracing the veins of your arm.

“Plus, I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.”

You shiver.

Your second day and you feel as if you’re officially going insane.

The only person tolerable here is Jeongin, that chamber guard whose name you don’t know, and Felix, the castles cook. You barely see the King, and even when he’s present he’s usually quartered in his study.

What he does there remains unknown, information learned in the mere form of startled maids leaving the room and gossip among those wandering the Kingdom.

“Do you know what he does?”

Felix looks up from the dish he was laying in front of you, wispy blond locks bouncing with the movement.

“Does what?” He piques, ridding a stray piece of hair clinging to your sleeve.

“The King, what does he do all day long?”

One thing about Felix you love, his honesty. Regardless of if most would tell a quick fib and flee, Felix, although occasionally working around a topic, takes the time to actually explain things to you.

Allows you to learn more of the place you’re going to have to call home.

“Hm..” He pulls a chair from your right to drop into, and for a moment, you see Ms. Maewether in that smile of his. Your heart aches.

“Chris— I mean, King Bahng is always busy. He plans trade agreements, oversees the hunts, and basically keeps this castle alive.”

Chris?

“Who’s Chris?”

Felix nearly squeaks, burying his head in his hands. Evidently, you weren’t supposed to hear that part, but an eagerness to know more about this solitary King kept your hesitance at bay.

“That’s his name. Christopher Bahng, but you’re not allowed to call him that and not allowed to tell anyone about us having this conversa-“

“Tell who?”

You quite literally almost fall backwards in your seat, failing to anticipate the pair of hands placed on Felix’s shoulders.

A pair of hands, followed by a pair of ocean blue eyes, boring right into you and the horrified boy in front of you.

King Bahng. In the flesh.

“Oh.. Hey Chri— Hello Your Highness.”

Again he corrects. These two must know each other.

“Tell who, Felix?” He speaks, tone nothing short of teasing—though the boy looks just as startled, practically sweating through his clothing.

Still adorning that flanking wolf-cape of his, his dark hair is slightly messy, expression distorted curiously.

You hate him to admit, but King Bahng is horribly attractive.

“Nothing! Nothing at all, Your Highness,” Felix chirps, fixing you with a ‘Don’t say a word’ glare you cease to argue with.

Rising up from your seat quickly as if you had any duties in this Kingdom to tend to, you find yourself stalling.

You have so many questions. …And the overwhelming urge to slap him across the face.

You’ve received a fair warning on the latter.

“I’ll be off now, Your Highness.”

The last words come out involuntary, used to referring to your own father this way. It made you sick to know you regarded his murderer the same.

And though the King didn’t stand extremely tall (considering how young Beasts were already your height), his hulking stature felt as if it could swallow you whole, pointed canines flashing when he smiled, sending your head reeling.

Pleased.

King Bahng was pleased hearing something nonthreatening come out of your mouth.

Vile.

Yet, you simply curtsied and hurried off, ceasing to notice the immediate growl Felix directed in the King’s direction.

“Good lord, I know she smells good but you’re practically undressing her with your eyes,” The freckled boy grumbles, returned with an uninterested expression from his friend.

Before the King can head off to whatever meeting he has planned, however, he spins on his heel.

“Have you consulted Seungmin about the scent-blocking salve?”

“Possessive, are we?”

His glare shuts the cook up immediately.

“If there is one Mage left, it’s mine. And since she’s the survivor, she’s mine.”

Yeah, he’s not beating the possessive allegations. But if he’s going to gain your trust, and eventually, after much thought, become mates, he’s keeping every other Beast in the Kingdom at a distance from you at all times.

“Jeongin will report when it’s completed. And Chris?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t expect her to warm up to you.”

King Bahng hums.

“I don’t.”

And with that, Felix follows your exit, leaving the King to his own devices, your nectar-sweet smell lingering in his nose.

“If I stare at the same wall for hours and hours, shouldn’t it break by now?”

“You’re a Mage, not telekinetic,” Han replies, repetitively scanning over a piece of parchment assumed to be a guest list.

In the midst of your incessant boredom, you found yourself following the King’s Advisor around, peering over his shoulder at the endless list of haughty names written in languid ink strokes.

Amongst them, you ceased to find your father’s name. You knew it wouldn’t be there, but somehow, you wished if you blinked enough it would magically appear.

King L/N, written in that same, cursive font.

Rounding a corner, you conclude if there’s anyone you avoid more than King Bahng (a.k.a Chris), it was Hyunjin. That man was a serpent in a Beast’s body.

Catching sight of his dreaded ponytail, you hastily retrace your steps, hiding behind a massive doorframe while Han stares at you as if you’re a rodent scurrying at his shoes.

“He won’t bite y’know.”

“If only you would’ve been there when he first found me,” You whisper angrily, practically clawing at the wood desperately till he leaches you out.

Leaching enough, in fact, that you end up right in Hyunjin’s line of sight, who surveys you up and down with a cocked brow to the point you’re sure steam is billowing from your ears.

Mocking. Ruby-red, mocking eyes.

He does bite. He sinks his teeth into the flesh and tears.

You won’t bleed without biting back.

Han’s iron grip tightens on your arm as slowly, oh so slowly, Hyunjin walks closer.

The strategist prowls, edging right up in your face—noses a thread-width apart.

His glower sets your fury alight, lips curled in a deriding notion.

“No need to glare, wouldn’t want wrinkles ruining that face of yours.”

“No need to get so close unless you plan to kiss me, mutt.”

Though, just as Hyunjin preapres to lunge, a big hand holds him back, animal fur cuffs indicating it isn’t the King who stepped in.

The man who had fetched you from the chambers earlier divided either of you. Shorter, but evidently stronger.

“Control yourselves, both of you. For as long as she stays in the Kingdom, she’s The King’s property—“

“I am no one’s property,” You snarl, and the guard turns.

Basked in clear lighting, you can finally see him. Honing dark brown hair hanging above his eyebrows, the same scar resides by his mouth, though, his eyes are much kinder than you expected.

Taking a slow inhale, he reads your conflicted expression like an ornate mirror.

“One mage in the Kingdom of Beasts? Sorry to break it to you, but yes, you are his property. So as long as she’s here, nobody lays a finger on her, understood?”

Glancing to each person, either of them ease their apprehension, the bewildered Jisung next to you stifling a breath, Hyunjin rolling his eyes with a loud huff.

Baiting seconds pass, and in that period of time do you realize you never caught his name. Specifically, the guard’s name.

“Excuse m-“

“Seo Changbin,” Han interjects. “His name is Seo Changbin.”

Ah. Right.

Now on the roster of least-likely to kill you, Jeongin, Changbin, Felix, and Han.

Filled with a need to evade, you stand merely as a spectator as each horridly red hue snaps to stare at you, your heart spiking an alarming rate.

The King’s Advisor’s fingers tighten to the point you’re sure he’s blocking blood flow.

“You need to leave. Jisung, get in contact with Seungmin and see when the salve is done,” Changbin instructs, already shoving Hyunjin away.

Salve. What salve?

Failing to give you any explanation, you’re dragged off, boisterously complaining before the highly annoyed man abruptly pauses, finger nudging your forehead irritably.

“You smell.”

Then he leaves, and you’re left to wonder if you’re still in primary school or the Kingdom of Beasts.

You smell? What’s that supposed to mean?

First thing in the morning, you’re torn from your slumber with a blazing sun scorching your eyes.

Your canopy beds silken drapes doing little to block the attack, you whine to an apologetic Jisung who merely sighs in return.

“Sorry sleeping beauty, but we have an appointment to attend this morning. Can you handle getting dressed on your own?”

You roll your eyes, groggily pulling yourself upright. “I was an heiress, not helpless.”

To which he cracks a miniature grin and slips out the door, allowing you to hurriedly strip off your chemise and messily arrange your stays and petticoats.

Out of all things you’d been deprived of, a part of the L/N Clan unable to be divided was your garments.

Somewhere, in the midst of fabric and citrus scented soap, you swear you can still smell bits and pieces of home.

What this appointment entailed you failed to ask, gingerly hustled down winding hallways barely illuminated with sunlight.

The Kings Advisor expertly winds further and further down, georgian architecture littered in symmetrical golden portraits and decorum, casement glass windows twinkling as you walked past.

Having reached a dead end, you’re pleasantly surprised to watch Han jar a brass doorknob open, paving a breathtaking view of the garden ahead.

Garden had to be an understatement. This amount of foliage was nothing short of a forest.

Flowers of all kind surround your walk to a shrouded greenhouse, abnormally brick relative to it’s stone-castle counterpart. Its walls are overgrown in slithering vines, door nearly invisible without proper inspection.

Jisung, having noticed your amazed expression, chuckles.

Granted, it’s been years since you’d seen any form of green vegetation, your astonishment felt justified.

“We’ve arrived.”

Oh how you wish to stay here forever. Not captive by the Beast Clan, no, but in this garden, hidden.

And if the last door took effort to pry open, this was a new challenge entirely. Through thickets of dense hedge and tangled branches, Jisung had to quite literally ram himself into the chittering wood for entry.

“Knock next time would you?” A voice projects from inside, belonging to a man clad in rounded spectacles, a slightly hooked nose, and cleanly hair parted to the side.

The Kings Advisor, apparently having known him, beams his prize-winning smile upon seeing the man.

“Seungminnnn—“ Han drawls out, excitedly waddling over to wrap him in a crushing hug. Stiffly, Seungmin pats his back, an action you fondly watch from afar.

“Ah!” The more ebullient of the two springs up, turning to you. “This is Seungmin, he runs the apothecary here.”

Nodding stiffly, Seungmin ushers you to one of the many mahogany chairs circling a gateleg table; a vase—likely jade with its pale green hue—filled with indigo hydrangea presides in the center.

“And,” Han’s outburst cuts off your awe. “He’s practically my little brother.”

Now you’re in awe again, but for a different reason. And by the evident frown on Seungmin’s face, he can tell.

“Shocking, right?”

Yes, shocking for certain.

Though, before you can reply, Han slaps his hands on either of the man’s shoulders, expression transformed into one of seriousness.

“About time I left then, yeah?” Was spoken while his form hurriedly retreated out the door, leaving you with more questions than answers to what just occurred.

“..He forgot something again.”

Biting back your laugh, you finally take a seat, given ample time as Seungmin shuffles off to the side to acknowledge your everything to its fullest extent.

Matching the plant-infested interior, verdant drawers scatter the corners, a lone, looming medicinal cabinet left ajar as the chemist poured over a variety of assorted concoctions.

Air stained with a damp smell of earth, you notice, much to your curiosity, the longevity of such a place.

This apothecary, though inside the castle, feels like an entirely new settlement of its own. An establishment existing before the war, rebuilt (inefficiently) enough to where it was only required to stand stable.

From first sighting you’d grown an attachment to it, but this newfound understanding, these newfound details setting the apothecary apart from your predicament let you imagine yourself anywhere else, back to a nostalgia you longed for.

A short term fix.

“This.” You’re handed a phial from overhead. It’s a slightly green substance, thicker in texture that rests heavy in your hand. “Is for you.”

Slipping across from you, he surveys your analyzing, arms crossed over a deep brown waistcoat.

“And this is..?” You inquire, looking up from the cork-sealed glass.

“A salve. You had better not waste it, material is low as is and I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.”

Well that didn’t answer your question. You’ve heard conversation about a specific salve for days on end, but no genuine explanation caved in—

‘I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.’

Repeatedly mulling over the words, you can practically feel your heart palpitating, head beginning to spin.

..End already? The endless winter.. ending?

“So you’re saying,” You murmur, placing down this special salve in order to truly regard him.

“There’s a way to end the Endless Winter?”

His brows crease critically, seemingly sarcastic.

“There’s an end to everything sweetheart. Life, death. Start, finish. War,” He meets your eyes with a conniving grin, a face you hadn’t seen on the man before.

“Peace.”

Automatically, you roll your eyes.

Peace? Peace when there was no peace left to be made, no kingdom remaining to make peace with?

“And how do you think the nonexistent Mage will make peace with Beasts?”

Seungmin grins.

“Well there is a Mage left,” He scornfully states, flicking your forehead whilst you palm the sting, frown evident.

“And as far as making peace goes, marriage.”

Marriage.

What.

“Wait- so you’re telling me big bad King Bahng could’ve just hooked up with a Mage and called it a day and everything would be fine?”

Seungmin clears his throat.

“One, Bahng doesn’t ‘hook up’. Two, it’s not as easy as that.”

Of course it’s not as easy as that. Why would it be?

You wish to claw your eyes out of your head, anticipating his explanation.

“Because if you weren’t aware before, marriage ties between Mage and Beast are very difficult to establish. Bahng is picky on everything, and even pickier when it comes to mates.”

But before you can argue there were thousands of suitors roaming the L/N Kingdom for him to pick from, Seungmin interrupts.

“Plus, if anyone else were King I’m sure we would’ve had peace decades ago. You’re lucky you’re in the castle right now, otherwise you would be eaten alive.”

Your face scrunching worriedly, he rakes an exasperated hand through his hair, plopping down on the vanity’s chair.

“Your scent.”

Again, you’re reminded of Han’s ‘you smell’ comment. Why is it showing up a second time?

He groans frustratedly, wordlessly praying you understand.

You don’t.

“Mage have specific scents. You can’t smell it since you’re not Beast. But let me tell you, you smell fucking delightful.”

Oh.

That’s what he meant by eaten alive, and the entire ‘you smell’ conundrum.

Seungmin, rather entertained with the shock written on your face, shrugs his shoulders, nonplussed by the crassness of his earlier statement.

“Now you get the use of the salve, right? And why you’re not allowed to leave the castle?”

Your mouth feels dry of response, beckoned toward the exit without so much as a peep passing through your lips.

However, right as the you’re halfway gone, he stops you, brows cocked.

“Do us all a favor and marry him, will you?”

And like that, the apothecary’s door thumps closed behind you.

If only the “him” he was referring to wasn’t King Bahng, you might’ve agreed.

Marriage in the L/N Kingdom had been a sacred event.

An event you’d been prepared for since childhood, fed daydreams of a day you would be married to a prince-like man with perfect features and a perfect personality, every element fabricated from a young age.

Truly, you loved it. Loved visualizing a life shared with your loved one, whoever that man would be.

Little did you know he might just be King of the Beast Clan.

No. You refused. Marrying a murderer, the murderer of your family, was the last thing you would oblige to.

He sent the command, he led the attack, and you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction of marriage.

Although, one problem. Similar to life back at the L/N Kingdom, supplies only lasted for some time before shipments became low, and pretty soon (according to Seungmin) the salve you were given would run dry.

Meaning, your meager chance of protection lay completely exposed, susceptible to any Beast daring enough to try something.

Two sides of a coin remained. Heads, you marry the murderer of a King and spring returns, or tails, you abstain and are eventually left vulnerable.

You’ve always been the person to confront a difficulty head-on, but, in this case, a different, defensive approach crossed your mind.

Run away.

Despite Seungmin’s sensible reminder to not leave the castle, what other option sounded suitable?

Die physically or mentally, pick your poison.

Or maybe, never drink the poison in the first place. Evade.

Three days have passed since you received the salve, and after applying it behind your ears and between your elbows at dawn, you were free to do as you pleased—within the castle walls.

Yet, tomorrow’s dawn would be divergent. Tomorrow, you would be days away from the Beast Clan.

Sneakily roaming around, you managed to find certain outlets to your disposal. Nearby the chambers you’d been kept in was a moth eaten, hooded cloak seemingly unworn for quite awhile. Ideal for an anonymous escape.

Furthermore, amongst the colloquy during a dinner with Changbin and Felix in the Great Hall, you distinctly recall overhearing information about the stables.

If you were to flee, you needed a horse, and thanks to the guard, you knew right where to find one.

Unable to sleep the night before, your dry eyes blink through the dense darkness, sweeping the candlestick from your side table for a minimal source of vision.

Lathering a copious amount of salve all over your skin, you slip down the winding stairwell, grateful for the shadowed moonlight gazing down upon the Throne Room as you venture.

Bingo. There’s the cloak.

Sweeping the fabric over your shoulders, you slip the hood over your head, creeping down the steep steps leading into a surrounding ward.

On your left, across the butcher’s vendors.

Blindly searching, the whinny of a mare alerts your close distance, carefully winding through lead ropes and linked fences to the first horse in sight.

You have to be fast, the sun will rise at any moment it pleases, and it’s impertinent you’re gone by then.

Hoisting a mere saddle pad over the back, you deem the saddle too noisy, slipping the reins overheard and adjusting their length accordingly.

Jogging forwards, you’re brisk to gain a running leap atop the horse prior to the thunder of hooves charging forward.

Closer to the gatehouse you near, a luckily open drawbridge allowing easy passage across.

Faster, faster. You can’t afford to slow down. Daylight is beginning to peer above the horizon, warming your back with rays of sunlight amongst a snowy landscape.

And when the kingdom wakes up, it’ll be as if you were never there.

But, an undecided factor stayed. Where would you go? There was no kingdom left for you, no home to go to.

For now, you needed to prioritize finding a hiding spot, if only for a night, that supplies warmth.

Given the opportunity, too long out here and you or your horse will indefinitely succumb to the frigid conditions.

Veering off sharply, you sidle beneath a barren magnolia tree, its thick trunk barely blocking the unforgiving wind. Pretty soon you’ll have to keep on, but for now, you’ll savor the temporary peace.

Blue skies indicate it must be nearing morning, and you assume the castle will be slowly waking up. By now, King Bahng would likely be awake as well, you’ve been told he doesn’t sleep well anyway.

Scouts. He’ll send scouts most likely. Knights like Minho or Hyunjin.

Ugh, the mere thought of Hyunjin finding you a second time makes you nauseous.

Except, the longer you consider it, King Bahng is the worst case scenario.

I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.

Those words send an entourage of chills slithering up your spine, and not from the cold.

Because while Hyunjin is a type of spiteful strong you want to avoid primarily due to how annoying it is, King Bahng is a quiet strong, the kind that wouldn’t confess his anger, but have you witness it firsthand instead.

Enough thinking. You have to go.

Using the bumpy roots below you for leverage, you wind a leg around the horse’s back, aiming to reach the edge of the territory before midday.

That was the goal, until you’re pummeling to the ground.

The moment is instantaneous, your horse releasing a shriek as it’s swiped right off its feet, slipping onto hard, icy ground and simultaneously crushing you in its descent.

Almost like vomit you feel the screech of pain building in your throat, a numbness in your right leg along with the warmth of blood soaking your clothing doing little to sustain level breathing.

Then, in the midst of your hysterics, you look upon the visible side of your horse, a pair of claw marks scratched right across its stomach.

Scrambling out to the best of your abilities, you bite your tongue, praying this is one of Hyunjin’s sick, sadistic games and not an obvious ambush.

You refuse to die like this. You’ve survived once and you’ll be damned to give up now.

“I’m impressed. You’re not as weak as I thought.”

A sneering tone speaks from behind you. According to the claw marks, Beast, but not one you remember. And with your current state—being unable to rise to your feet—you’re utterly incapable of ascertaining an identity.

Instantly, your hand reaches up to trace the alcove beneath your ear and neck, any ounce of hope disappearing upon feeling for the salve.

Gone.

“Now, care to tell me what a Mage is doing in Beast territory?”

He’s hiding behind you on purpose, drawing you into a sensory overload, a panicked frenzy of adrenaline and fear.

Deer caught in headlights.

A curved claw unlike those in the Kingdom of Beasts winds your head back, staring straight into the face of something you can hardly deem Beast, more like wolf.

He has this terrifying look in his eyes, and breath that stenches of metal and flesh.

This man is the kind of Beast you’d grown up believing in. Violent, merciless.

Minho, Hyunjin, hell, anyone. Please.

As if second instinct, you assess everything around you, snatching the closest stick to you and jarring the sharp end through the bottom of his chin with all your might.

A gagged, sort of howling sound emits from above you, putrid-smelling blood spraying all over your face.

In split seconds does another form appear in your peripheral, your dread heightening before ultramarine stills the horror in its tracks.

King Bahng.

He’s quiet, expertly slicing the back of the neck, the attacker dropping to the ground motionlessly.

“I could’ve handled it myself.”

It’s a lie. He doesn’t respond.

If the first Beast hadn’t killed you, he certainly would. He said it himself, whenever he pleased, he could break you.

So when King Bahng’s arms extend toward your position on the ground, you prepare for the worst, crawling backwards as quickly as possible.

Surprisingly, he kneels down in front of you, and, as your vision clears, you notice the concern written on his face.

Weird, the feeling compiling in your gut as he looks at you like that. The way your eyes build with tears, lungs finally hacking for as much non-congested air available without a single word said.

Just by his expression alone, you’re a fit of blood and tears, the aftershock hardly helping ease the experience.

Crying, in the middle of a forest, with King Bahng as a witness.

“I know, I know,” Is all he whispers, and you barely recognize when he hoists you into his arms, the searing sting of your leg your only indication of movement.

Smoothly maneuvering you again his chest, he cradles your body close, one hand directing his horse as you ride back to what you assume to be the Kingdom.

Through the aching pain, you can’t even be upset about returning, merely focusing on the subtle warmth of his body and the strength willing you to say something.

“You speak nothing of this moment,” You murmur, the King’s body erupting into a tremor of laughter.

“I speak whatever I like whenever I like, sweetness. No one touches what’s mine, yeah?”

Mine. You hate the effect he has on you.

Yet, your snarky remarks are depleting in tandem with your energy; the soothing, shushing sound he’s making and the repetitive thump of hooves doing little to keep you from sleeps tempting beckon.

Eyes drifting closed, his tightened grip pulls you closer, your cheek smushed into the fabric of his coat whilst lost in slumber.

“Hold on a bit longer for me, we’ll be there in no time.”

Recovery, to your luck, is swift. Either that, or Kim Seungmin is secretly a Mage, because within a week spent off your leg, you’re back to normal.

A little sensitive to weight, but overall, healed.

Initially, despite the agony blazing through your body, you were thankful you barely recalled seeing anyone, swept into the apothecary immediately.

The last thing you wanted to see after returning would be the faces. Plus, what about your friends? Jeongin, Felix, Han? You’re sure they looked destroyed.

Except, it’s all fake. A feign kindness given to you only by sympathy. What do the faces matter anyway?

You gorge that question to the very back of your throat when said Cook walks through the apothecary’s door, utmost apprehension apparent. He grabs your face, brows knit—but not in an angry sort of way, more like staving-down-tears.

“Don’t you ever do something like that ever again.”

Past him, you can’t help but smile seeing Seungmin’s softened expression watching Felix, adoring his preciousness just as you are.

“I promise.”

Nodding curtly, he turns around, leaving you to view the many ingredients scattered across his apron.

He rushed here, cute.

“I’ll bring breakfast down here.”

Craning, you can barely make out his deep voice, lowered to a nearly inaudible decibel. Ears flushed pink, you’re filled with a worrisome amount of happiness seeing Felix’s embarrassment trying to maintain an upset facade.

“Hm? What was that?”

Ah, at this point you’re picking fun.

“I said I’ll bring breakfast down here.”

Precipitously slipping outside, both you and Seungmin are left to stifle your bubbling laughter, graced with the most appetizing platter you’ve had the pleasure of eating a few minutes later.

However merciful those first few days were, dissipated. And in a short amount of time, you could feel the eyes boring into your back, the questions resting on the tip of tongues.

All the same, nobody mentioned it. And if anything, that made the paranoia grow.

It was gradual. The subtle shadow you swore you saw in corners, the terror stopping your heart in your chest when you swear someone breathed down your neck.

Your body may be healed, but your mind certainly isn’t.

To a degree that two weeks later, you’ve found sleep nearly impossible, lingering in the kitchen in the wee hours of morning, teetering on your wits end.

Some occasions it’s Felix who you see first, wiping the sleep from his eyes, loading coal into the furnaces to heat the kitchen for the day. Other days it’s handmaids, shuffling around busily, carrying goods to and fro.

This time, Minho arrives first, for once wearing regular clothing opposed to his usual armor, steaming saucer in clutch.

Perhaps this is an opportunity, he is a knight after all.

“Hey Minho?”

Tired eyes sweep to your figure on the table, the rim of his cup held to his lips.

“I’m too paranoid and at this point I might die of sleep deprivation,” You huff, referring to his raging, bed-headed self . “…Could you teach me how to use a sword?”

He’s staring at you like you‘ve grown two heads, pulling a chair back to settle in, arms crossed over his chest.

No sentences need to be said aloud, merely spectating the gears turning in his head enough to set your nerves on edge.

Yet, in the midst of your waiting, you note a peculiar bruise peeking from his collarbone, another lingering a tad bit lower.

“And you think a sword is going to protect you?”

The question is genuine, lacking the bemused nature you were expecting.

Another thing you’ve noted throughout your sleepless nights was the continuous amount of times you’d watch the King’s Advisor sneak into his quarters, a realization keeping your response baited.

Seems his love life isn’t a concern.

“Hey, those marks on your neck and shoulder, are those from Ha—“

“When do you want to train.”

All lightheartedness vanishing, you have to chew your lip to avoid ticking him off further by giggling.

“Tomorrow?”

Pushing in his chair with an agreeable hum, you merely whisper a hurried “Thank you” he grunts at, rushing off to who knows where and giving you leeway to recover from the hilarity of it all.

Tomorrow, however, came far too early, not anticipating to be woken up at the crack of dawn, grumpy enough the prospect of blackmailing the King’s Advisor became dangerously tempting.

Yeah, good luck. He’s not budging until you’re on your feet.

Seems you underestimated Han Jisung’s stubbornness.

Rushed into a loose gown, you’re led to the Inner Ward, an open sector in the middle of the castle.

Upon being met with a too-smug Minho, you can practically see the word “payback” hovering above his head, busying himself with fetching supplies.

Perhaps this is karma coming back to bite you.

Ouch.

Except, you’re puzzled. You’re being taught how to deul, yet your teacher isn’t adorning armor nor gear of any kind.

At your confusion, the knight chokes a cocky guffaw.

“First, we learn how to properly move.” He hands you a wooden sword. “If I so much as leave a scratch on you I’m as good as dead.”

Again, he may appear snarky, but his tone is nothing short of serious. Minho is hard to read.

Wait.

Seeing past your panic, the Beast seems to answer your unspoken question.

“King Bahng is visiting the villages today, he won’t be back till the evening.”

A wave of relief grounds your bones, standing rather pathetically while Minho aids in critiquing your position, instinctively shifting into his own in front of you.

“Now, there are a lot of things to consider when dueling. I’ll narrow things down. Don’t overestimate or underestimate your opponent, trust your gut, be aware of everything, and lastly, do not be afraid to deceive.”

Promptly, he’s lashing out before you can even process his advice, wooden weapon drawn above his head as your grip tightens, attempting to block the strike only for his foot to press into your stomach, sending you falling right onto the ground instead.

“Isn’t that unfai—“

“Like I said, deception is your greatest weapon. In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.”

He reaches a hand out for you to take, helping you back up again only to both fall back into your stances.

“Keep in mind, your sword isn’t your only weapon.”

Minding his instruction, you continue onward, sparring heartily till the beating afternoon sun becomes too hot to bask in any longer. Amongst the four hours you had been consumed in training, you’ve snagged certain valuable points.

Calmness is crucial. Your mind streams clearer when you parried, void to the opponent’s increasing frustration—given an advantage of both agility and focus.

Two, unpredictability is a gift. Minho is especially good at being unpredictable.

Whether he charges headfirst or aims the forte of his sword toward particularly weak points, you begin to mimic his performance, growing closer and closer to conquering those signature tactics.

Of course, your enjoyment can only last for a bit before it spoils.

Spoiling as in, Hwang Hyunjin’s random appearance, sauntering into the area as if he’s King himself.

“Well look at this, didn’t think I’d see our runaway and Minho here.”

There’s an air between Minho and Hyunjin, one that forbids Hyunjin from egging his superior on, just like when you were first brought to the Kingdom. Lucky for you, you could be degraded as much as he approved of.

Feigning a dramatic gasp, he gestures to either wooden sword held in raw palms.

“No way, you’re learning how to deul?! Don’t tell me you’ve never learned basic attacks? Oh right, you never had to fight, huh, princess?”

You bite the skin of your cheek, minding your composure.

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.”

Now he’s asking for it.

“Say,” He sneers. “Let’s duel.”

Keeping Minho from intervening, you apologetically nod to his disproving expression. He knows it’s stupid, even while fetching his armor and adjusting the metal plating to your body, and you do too, but you can’t afford to back down, you won’t.

Testing your abilities carrying a legitimate sword this time, Minho grants Hyunjin a terse scowl, their own wordless agreement to tone down on anything too harmful.

Somehow, it grates your nerves further.

Straight away, he charges his right foot forward, the metal colliding with a loud ring, narrowing your body to shield your unprotected side.

Hyunjin, though skillful in his wrist mobility, clearly uses his size compared to you as an advantage, carelessly throwing around his jabs whilst relying on form alone.

You shuffle back and forth continuously, the commotion of metal rifle drawing the attention of Beasts alike throughout the castle, stopping their movements to survey.

Lurching himself forward once more, you will your legs to support you, balancing the crushing force of his pushing ascent with as much strength as possible.

“If you win, you get whatever sensible award you want,” He grits, using pure weight alone to gain higher vantage. “But if I win, you marry King Bahng.”

Suddenly, interrupting your stunned reaction to his proposal, Minho’s reminder breaches your eardrums.

Deception is your greatest weapon.

Honestly, you’re bewildered Hyunjin hadn’t played petty thus far, and you have no doubt he will any moment now.

You can’t afford to waste the opportunity.

Maintaining your gaze targeted on his face, you steal the chance, slipping your sword right beneath his feet, hooking the guard just fast enough to cause his legs to buckle.

The tip of your sword centimeters from his neck, you cock your brows, finding satisfaction in the glare he’s boring into your skin from his spot on the ground.

In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.

“If King Bahng wishes to marry me, he will deul me himself. That decision isn’t up to you.”

Stalling his immediate laughter upon nudging the sharp point right up against his pulse point, you chuckle.

“I might have to do this more often, you’re not bad when you shut your mouth for once.”

Dropping your sword, you reach out a customary hand he rejects, either of you following Minho to the side stalls to return his armory before a haunting voice stops you in your tracks.

“One more match?”

You’d been ignorant to the Kingdom’s sudden burst of energy, the trembling chains of the drawbridge dropping onto cobblestone ground, the gates shifting open.

Having appeared through thin air stands King Bahng, constantly arriving at the worst of timing.

He’s clad in traditional armor, though his has fancier plating, cleaner sheen, azure hues hidden within the gorget.

Your stomach ties itself into a knot, piecing together the details.

“If this is about the deal, I don’t think I-“

“Oh please princess, this was never up to you. We did this for the sake of the Kingdom, you think we ever considered your say in this?” Hyunjin interjects, quickly escorted away by a frowning Minho and an additional guard you don’t recognize.

Huh?

What… What is he talking about? For the Kingdom? What does he mean for the sake of the Kingdom?

Do us all a favor and marry him, will you? Seungmin’s words ricochet in your skull, the parts assembling perfectly into place.

But if I win, you marry King Bahng.

Marriage.

They knew all along. They knew you were set to marry him and yet, no one told you.

If your betrayal had been violently inflicted, you would look like a rag doll. All this time, these moments you thought were glee-filled, hopeful.

Lies.

Tearing the King’s chance to speak from his fingertips, you pick up your sword, denying your shaky, white knuckles and replacing those broken feelings with rage instead.

No, you can’t afford to show weakness. You must replace these feelings as quickly as possible.

No weakness, no mercy.

“Fine, let’s duel.”

“But-“

“Pick. Up. Your. Sword. And fight me.”

Releasing a sigh, he cautiously pulls his own sword from its sheath, waiting to be counted off unlike Hyunjin.

However skillful you’d been before had completely vanished. Though, you would give yourself the benefit of the doubt, this fight meant your future, meant the minuscule bit of freedom you’d gotten to experience here.

The last thing you wished was to realize you had been lied to, but even more so to realize you’ve been lied to in front of the entire Kingdom, curious faces peering from the castle’s allures.

Your swings sloppy, you credit the severity of the blows as you attack and defend, evidently dueling with fatal intent.

You’ve lost this battle, you know it. Your senses are too overwhelmed to assess spatial awareness, and every muscle in your arm cries out for relief.

Swept off of your feet in a repeated cycle to earlier, you accept, sitting below the tip of King Bahng’s sword, your defeat.

Almost automatically, the pieces of pride you’d attained after your victory against Hyunjin amounted to nothing.

You may beat everyone else, but you will never beat this man, now matter how hard you try. The odds will always soar in his favor, and you will suffer the results of it.

This is not a game you’ll win. Because from the beginning, you existed as a marionette, enjoying such naivety till the comprehension as to who controlled the play hit you.

This theatre was particularly unforgiving.

He won.

If your insomnia before was grueling, this was an entirely new extreme.

Averaging a meager two hours per night, you’re positive you’ve memorized the guest list by heart, staring blankly at the crinkled parchment, unblinking.

In a matter of days, the congratulatory ball will be held.

You’ll be attending said ball as the bride.

Weeks ago, the guest list had simply been a past time, a mandatory errand for the King’s Advisor, a ball you weren’t aware, and wouldn’t be aware, was meant for you.

Your chest feels.. sad? Empty?

Yes. Empty is the word. An emptiness gutting you from the inside, the ugly drawback of exhausted options and worthless optimism.

There’s a lot of things to ponder on as well, factors you have to analyze, ensure it wasn’t another stage for an audience you so foolishly performed.

No escape.

Tuesday, two days before the ball, Jeongin drops by your door, carrying a package under his arm and that effortlessly adorable smile gracing picture-perfect features.

“This is for you, from.. um..” The anxious boy stammers, placing the binded package on your room’s veneer.

“You can say his name, Jeongin, I’m not mad.”

He exhales audible relief, slender fingers wrapping around your hand before you can bid him farewell.

“He— The King, he’s a good person.”

You force a tight grimace, agreeing despite your contradicting expression.

Perhaps he is, perhaps he isn’t. You don’t know what to believe anymore.

Slipping from bed once the young boy’s footsteps fade in the distance, you gingerly unwind crimson ribbon, allowing the leather exterior to unfold.

Inside lies a gown.

A gown that, investigating how breathtaking it is, should be considered nothing short of a ball gown the longer you stare.

Designed as a mantua, the white fabrics paired with lace neck frill and engageantes add an elegance you’ve never seen before. Light, subtle blue hides beneath ruffles of the skirt, further accented by equally blue lace strings fastening the back together and outlining the seam of your square-cut stays.

You can only marvel at the gift given by your future husband, wishing so terribly you could simply run into his arms and pretend everything was well.

If only it was under better terms, as if nothing had happened. If King Bahng was another man, it’d be possible.

And Wednesday night, the root of your problems bares his face, knocking at your door while you were under the impression it was Han instead.

Acting as if you didn’t care was much easier around everyone but him, especially when you were halfway into tying the laces of your dress, the dress he had purchased for you.

What awful circumstances.

“Don’t touch me,” You hiss, regarding the man across from you with a frown.

Lifting either hand in the air, he seemingly invites you to figure out the impossible strings yourself, cueing a very aggravated, very futile attempt at tightening the ties of your ball gown before (hesitantly) allowing the man to slip behind you.

Of course you had to choose now to try it on.

His touch irritably careful, he ensures the fabric is snug fitting but breathable, each woven thread in its coordinating pattern.

Where he learned this you have no idea, only aware of how horrific this close proximity is, your restlessness growing unbearable.

Running his tongue over his top teeth, he backs up slightly, taking you in with apparent speechlessness.

He clears his throat.

“I won’t apologize because I know it means nothing to you, but please, let me explain. I intended to tell you, I just-“

He sounds timid, like a child.

A sour, bitter fury froths like bile in your throat. You want to explode.

“No. No. I didn’t want this! I won’t!” You wind around, pointing an accusing finger to his chest. “You killed them all, my family, my loved ones, children. I hate you. I hate you!” Your voice breaks, a gravelly, disgusting drawl raking your throat raw. Salty, burning tears drip down your collarbones.

Grievance. An innumerable stage of sadness you hadn’t reached before now, overflowing.

As he tries calming you down, you only grow angrier, pushing from your path to the door, ripping the handle awry.

Instantly, his arms wrap around your middle, hauling you back as you kick and scream, fingernails digging into any available skin, dress puffing as your legs flail.

Catastrophic.

“No- No!”

You’re certain the entire kingdom can hear you, but that’s the last concern occupying your headspace, too focused on escaping, far off as you had done earlier, anywhere but here.

“Stop crying,” He commands, either hand on your wrist pinning your back to the bed, expression morphed pitifully. His calloused hand swipes the storming rivulets from your cheeks.

“Please, Y/n, please stop crying. It hurts.”

Your response shortens into a simple sob, aching.

“It hurts..?” You murmur, eyes shifting over his face. “…You hurt?”

Incessant crying causing your skin to burn, he only blinks at you.

A fit of anger forms just as fast as it disappeared in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re hurting? You’re the sick son of a bitch that killed my family and took everything I’ve ever loved away, you don’t deserve to hurt!”

Sucking in a necessary inhale, you angrily flail, wrinkling your nose at the careful tilt of his head, the distance of his face from yours, every scar, every pore close enough to see.

What happened to the King who threatened to break you? Why is he pitying you, looking at you with such kindness?

Longing to bring up how useless the deal was, how the benefits of the marriage aren’t your responsibility, you simply glare, emotions a whirlwind you can’t explain, can’t say aloud.

And all he does is stare. Staring like you’ve said nothing at all.

You want to cry out, want to curse him for all eternity, curse those blue eyes that seem to pave a pathway through your soul.

But you don’t. He beats you to it.

“..Do you know why my eyes are blue?”

What?

“Because I’m not fully Beast. My mother was a Mage. She turned against my father after I was born, left us, and vowed to do everything in her power to destroy Beasts.”

Your face contorts nonsensically, his tight hold on your wrists loosening the longer he speaks.

“And I assume,” He redirects your head, forcing you to maintain eye contact.

Rearing deja-vú reminds you of your first encounter.

“No one ever told you Mage’s started the war.”

You scoff.

“Or that the Mage planned to cut off all trade supply simply out of spite. And so, I did what I had to—“

“You did what you wanted to. You killed helpless people because of your own problems, my family had nothing to do with it!” Vocal cords throbbing the louder you scream, you try kicking your legs to no avail.

“Your family, Mage, had everything to do with it. My people would have died-“

“Mine already did. So now what?”

A minuscule pinch occupies his brows.

“You weren’t supposed to be alive.”

“But I am, so you might as well let me join them.”

He sighs, a stray, obsidian strand of hair hanging over his forehead.

“You know I can’t do that.”

You test the words on your tongue, wedging your hand out to grab his face, feeling the dip of his jaw as he sucks in a breath.

When you first met, he had told you he’d break you. This change of heart confuses you, grates more anger in your chest.

“And why is that?”

Opening his mouth, he momentarily closes it, then opens again, contemplating the statement with caution.

He’s right, in some way.

You’re not supposed to be alive, not supposed to be saddened. You were meant to be in the ground with them, be one of the many bodies littering the L/N Kingdom, granted an eternal sleep.

Yet, you aren’t.

You survived, and you despise this man with every fiber of your being for that.

But things cannot change. You can’t bring them back, and his situation is just as painful as yours.

You both lost people, or, would’ve lost people.

An explanation or an apology, as he said, isn’t necessary.

So you’ll get what you want, tangibly.

Forcefully grabbing his chin and jutting him closer to you on the bed, your voice drips with venom, noses mere breadth apart.

“Then end this winter and marry me, Your Highness.”

For a split second you swear his gaze drifts to your lips, but you shake the thought away, his sharp canines glinting off the mirrors reflection.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one to propose?”

“You killed my family, no need for formalities.”

“Care to remind me why you agreed to marry him? Weren’t you planning to kill him?” Felix piques, apron woven around his thin waist, skillfully measuring flour that’s dusted over his nose.

You needed to get your anger out, then devise a plan. Show King Bahng you weren’t going to succumb to his charms, tricks. Ever.

You hum from your spot on the counter, conversing just as you’d done back in your kingdom with Ms. Maewether.

Technically, he was your new Ms. Maewether.

“Oh no, I still plan on killing him, I just want something first.”

Except, you didn’t talk about murder in front of Ms. Maewether. That was new.

He raises an eyebrow.

“And what would that be?”

Snapping your fingers, you cheerily tap your heels against the cabinets below.

“I want to see spring again.”

Silence overcoming the kitchen, it takes Felix a full minute to understand your preposition before bursting into unadulterated laughter. Well, until he realizes. Then he pouts.

“Aw, I was really looking forward to seeing Chris rejected at the altar.” The smaller Beast whines, popping a piece of sugary sweet dough his mouth and handing another to you.

“Hey, now that’s just cruel,” You mumble, muffled by the delicacy you’re currently chewing on.

“According to you yesterday, not really.”

Ah. Right.

“We just… have a lot to talk about.”

The phrase sounds stupid, but it’s true. Logically, emotionally it’s true. There is a lot in need of discussing.

For now, you’re indifferent.

“I’ve always thought you two were similar.”

The cook’s outburst catches you off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve always wanted to protect what mattered to you most, and maybe, one day, you can understand why he did what he did.”

Leave it to Felix to be your reasonable opinion.

Nevertheless, an invisible barrier rests between you two. A lie. His lie. The Kingdom’s lie.

“Felix, I will never understand why he did it,” You humorlessly chuckle, hopping from your spot. “So tell me, why did you lie?”

All morning you debated the right time to confront him. Tonight was the night, the congratulatory ball, the wedding. Why wait?

Freezing with his back turned to you, he stops mid-slice, dropping the knife atop the cutting board and gradually facing you.

Oh Felix.

His nose flushed pink, lips quivering, you allow him to race forward and hug you, head tucked into your shoulder while you stand there, motionless.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It was decided from the start, but we were told not to tell you, not until King Bahng told you himself.”

You want to tell him it’s okay, make some jokes, act like things are normal. Though your arms stay glued to your side.

“I guess Hyunjin beat him to it, huh?”

His arms tighten around you and, with a sigh, you pat his back, gently nudging him off of you where you can hold that sweet face of his.

“But don’t worry about me, alright? I can handle this, and I forgive you, so let’s move on from this, Lix.” Tenderly rubbing the skin of his cheek, he meekly smiles, an action you can’t help but feel relieved seeing.

You’re strong. You have to be strong. For Felix, for Han, for Jeongin, for your friends throughout the Beast Clan, you’ll be strong. You’ll enjoy wearing the gown regardless of who bought it for you, cherish the wedding no matter the man you’re wedded to.

If you’re going to have to live like this forever, you might as well make the most of it.

On today’s occasion, you’re dressed by a hand maid sent to your quarters, polished and puffed to perfection by the time five o’clock arrives and the banquet officially begins.

And when you see yourself in the mirror, you’re not exactly sure who stares back at you.

She’s pretty, yes, but she isn’t Y/N. She’s a Queen, the Queen of the Beast Clan.

Your stomach wrenches.

By tomorrow, you’ll be married. Married to King Bahng. You will be a wife, the wife of a King just as the L/N Kingdom intended.

The thought continues to plague your mind, sucking more and more oxygen from your lungs that as you’re escorted to the ball room.

You can hardly inhale and exhale normally as Changbin, whom you appreciate enormously, walks you down the aisle, past an abundance of people you’ve never seen before. Beasts, business men, acquaintances alike.

Sensing your panic, your linked arms allow him to spare you a meager glance you anxiously return.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

All previous calmness long dissipated, when you finally redirect your attention from your feet and take in King Bahng waiting at the altar, your rampaging anxiousness increases tenfold.

As the audience claps and either of you turn with your backs facing the crowd, you scorn your lack of a poker face when the King rests a hand on your back.

“Breathe,” He utters, only a whisper you heard.

Wishing to thank him, you bite your tongue, considering the man you’re referring to in the first place prior to replying.

A sharp nod of your head is enough.

Stifling an exhale, you spin on your heel, both bowing to the public before facing each other and holding hands, an action that shouldn’t cause goosebumps to swarm your arms, but does anyway.

“You plan to smash my face in at our wedding?” He murmurs below the customary vows, acknowledging your fingernails digging into his hand.

“Keep giving me ideas and I migh-“

The retort vanishes when he presses his lips to yours, doubling back in shock before his palm on your back keeps you close.

Granting you breathing room if only for an instant, a slow grin tugs at the edge of his lips.

“Then before I die, let me have this first.”

And he dives right back in again, kiss surprisingly tender compared to what you’d expected. Something bruising, dominating.

Instead, the King was soft. Soft as he held your cheek in a hand, soft when pulling you in by the waist.

Separating if only for a fraction of a second, you reach to hold his face, every instinct beckoning you to push him away dissipating into nothing but the nullified drone of your head and the insistent racing of your heartbeat.

“Are you that nervous, pretty? Your heart is-“

You pull him to your lips once more, hating how easy it is to forget, how his lips numb your thoughts—though unable to get enough.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

The guests hollering in your peripheral the lone sound breaching your eardrums, you can’t help thinking.

He did this for his people just as you would’ve done. As for the Mage instigating the war, some secrets shall remain hidden, unable to be answered. You have to accept that among many things.

The King has done nothing but care for you, and as much as you resent him for it, you respect him, if only a tiny bit, as well.

He’s irritable, and not to mention annoyingly handsome. His sympathy-filled eyes might be the death of you, and those dimples of his are stupidly lovable.

But he’s your husband, and somehow, strangely enough, you don’t find yourself hating the thought as much anymore.

Not when he holds you, and especially not when he kisses you as if it’s your last.

After the many hours spent celebrating, you couldn’t have been more enthusiastic about returning to your quarters.

Joined by King Bahng, you find traversing as easy as ever with the help of the (half) Beast behind you, helping navigate past multitudes of people, oddly comforting touch on your back guiding you through the hallways.

Arriving at your room, he pauses, awkwardly shifting his weight on his heels, bewitching gaze flitting left and right, uncharacteristic to his usually smug attitude.

“…Was the kiss too much?”

King Bahng, asking if his kiss was too much?

You wanted to photograph this moment in your mind forever, debating on whether you should tease him about it, egg the normally stoic King on.

However, you tip his chin down, pressing a chaste, soft peck to his lips, amusedly observing him freeze before melting into your touch.

“Could be better.”

He huffs a sigh in response, and you’re left wondering if this is the same man who threatened to break you, the one who now looks like a pouty toddler.

Although, just as you slip by, he takes ahold of your wrist.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You crack a smile.

“Good night Chris.”

And, suppressing your chuckle, you close the door behind you.

Hastily undressing into nightwear and slipping into bed, you stare up at the ceiling, hours passing from the ticking of a clock in the corner, echoing around the room.

Then, abruptly, your door creaks open.

“My gods, what are you doing here?” You whisper into the darkness, the door creaking behind his crouched form, King Bahng’s crouched form.

“I needed to see you.”

Ah. Don’t say things like that.

Pulling the covers further over yourself, you squint accusingly at the man as he enters, silencing your urge to reprimand he saw you mere hours earlier, presumptuously sitting opposite to you.

He scans what’s visible, fixating on your hand for a moment.

“You kept the ring on?”

Noting the gleaming jewel on your ring finger, you can’t help but feel slightly bashful. It’s not like you’re really married, but the thought sends a sort of satisfaction spreading throughout your chest.

“If I take it off, will it become winter again?”

He grins, giggling childishly.

“Is that the only reason?”

Debating on your response, you wet your lips, looking back up at his barely distinguishable face shrouded in darkness.

You have no doubt he’s thriving off your hesitance.

Oh how badly you wish to wipe that look clean, but in reality, keeping the ring on feels as if a part of you from your own kingdom is with you, similar to your old clothing.

The part of you that, if not invaded, would belong to someone loved, newly wedded.

“No,” You mutter, though the phrase is barely audible.

He perks up.

“Hm?”

You regret saying that. But he’s already heard, there’s no use lying aimlessly.

“I said no, that’s not the only reason.”

“Care to tell me the other reason?”

Rapidly averting your attention to your hand, you discover speaking is easier when not looking at him.

“Keeping it on makes me feel like I’m really in love. I like imagining that, being married.”

You miss the sad lilt crossing his face.

“We are married.”

Without missing a beat, you meet his stare.

“Are we?”

Unlike before, there’s no waver to your voice, no caution.

Winding around to your side of the bed, he settles beside your feet.

You clear your throat.

“I wanted to see spring again, and to you, I’m simply a present. A playtoy to your disposal. This isn’t marriage, not how I was taught, this is just a business arrangement.”

Nevertheless, the hurt leaks into your voice. So long to a resilient tone.

“Y/N, don’t do this to me.”

Come to think of it, it’s the first time he’s ever called you by your name apart from last night.

Having had enough of his nonsense, you spring for his collar, dragging him below you on the bed. Opposite to earlier, you’re on top this time, you’re in control.

“You don’t deny it.”

A silence passes.

“I would deny it a thousand times, but you wouldn’t believe me. And I don’t blame you for that.”

He sucks in a breath.

“I only ask you don’t doubt this marriage. This isn’t a business arrangement, and I will treat you with as much respect and love as possible, even if you don’t want me too. That is what marriage is, how I was taught.”

It’s your turn to inhale, lost within the confines of this dark space.

“Chris, do you love me?”

You both have people you love, people you want to protect, wanted to protect. It wasn’t his intention to hurt you, not when he found you after you ran away, not when ordering a salve to keep you safe, nor now, as you lean above him.

Like he told you. You weren’t meant to survive. You were supposed to be peacefully asleep, forever.

This man, this Mage, this Beast, is as much a murderer as your savior. You choose how to condemn him.

“I do, more than you could ever imagine.”

How can you stay mad at a guilty man, a man who kept you alive when you were on the brink of death? Who now professes to loving you, wanting to give you a marriage you’d been cheated of, give you everything you’ve been cheated of with everything in his power.

Hovering right by his lips to the point your chests touch, you place a miniature kiss there.

“I hate you, so much.”

Then another kiss.

His arms, wrapped around your more elevated form, drag you down in an embrace. One hand presses your face to his shoulder, another rubbing circles on your back.

“And I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, sorry.”

Raising up, you can’t contain the tremor of your lip, the way your eyes shakily close shut as you steal a third kiss from his lips, a kiss he returns, hands carefully holding each side of your face.

“Chris?” You manage, currently straddling his lap, his body resting against the headboard.

Kindly, he keeps a palm against your lower back, helping you balance.

“Can you show me what it means to be loved?”

You never understood how a person could melt until this moment. He wears that look again, like in the forest. The look that makes you cry.

What love looks like for Christopher Bahng, you don’t know. You have no doubt there will be ugly moments, moments you’ll reconsider, rethink.

You’re both hurt, some wounds still hurting. But for him, for you, you’re willing to take that chance.

“I’d be honored.”

FIC TAGLIST. @stayceebs97 @duhgirl @yourgirljanvi @readr1221 @spearbinnie0327 @hyunjinsartpeice @cheesytangerine @palindrome969 @luminouskalopsia @kiaralynn3838 @chrizztopher97 @starlost-andfound @weeping-angel-in-the-tard1s @zaggprincess2

sunboki, may 2022 ©

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willownwisp · 4 months

Text

love like a love song

a love sung, is a love that is lived.

author's note: hi, i'm opening my requests now so feel free to send asks for me! just peek at my nuh-uh list in my pinned for the things i'm okay with and fandoms that i write. also i still suck at titles, and pardon if my format isn't set yet, and my writing style changes. i'm an indecisive air sign also pls befriend me </3 it's so lonely in tumbles w/o friends the fic isn't dialogue heavy as i want to focus on feelings. <3 cw: nsfw mdni pls, SOFT AND FLUFFY, reader is a hopeless romantic and leon is hopelessly in love, fem!reader x di!leon kennedy, p in v.

What once was a sneaky mission to ease your midnight munchies turns into embarrassment when Leon, ever the alert and seasoned agent, catches you leaving his side, and unfortunately thwarting your plans as he follows the sound of your soft footsteps towards the kitchen. Finding you and wrapping his arms around your waist, the height difference making you nuzzle up into his chest and you smile up at him. Sleepy blue eyes, looking at you like you were his life line, and he's never shy to admit that you are. So you look at him like he's the only man in the world, you hope your memory etches every detail of his face because you are so disgustingly in love with each other, sometimes words fall short, and you want to love him with all that your body can show. You never learned how to dance, skipping prom might have been the best idea you've ever struck in your high school mind occupied with thoughts of wanting to be different, coupled with your averseness to boys. Leon doesn't dance, never learned to, the only dance he knows is a tango with death most of his life. Perhaps dancing in the palms of top brass? You pick. Yet the two of you both find yourselves in the kitchen at midnight, you in one of his old shirts, faded with time, Leon in his sweats swaying with you to the beat of nothing but the thrumming in his chest as he cradles you close to him.

It's laughably corny how the moonlight illuminates your eyes, the argentine glow of that lone moon like a spotlight as it peeks through the opened kitchen window. No words are spoken when he sways your body along with his as you are caged in his arms, you face him, and he stops in his tracks. If you were a cartoon character, you'd have hearts for eyes by now. Tired blue eyes looking back at yours, and you swoon, because you know you're his life line, and you're proud to be his. Leon captures your lips in a sweet kiss, you sigh in his mouth before your hands reach up to cup his cheeks, the feeling of his stubble on your skin is one of your favorite sensations, second only to him kissing you. Leon kisses you like tomorrow doesn't exist for him, he savors the taste of your lips that murmur sweet nothings when you think he's asleep, yet only pretending to, just to hear you. You're the only tender thing in his life, so he worships the softness of your skin, the gentle youth you had in you, because that will never be him. Your soft sighs, pleasant moans, are adorable to him, especially when you try to reach him, standing on the tips of your toes because you're cute like that. "Leon? Lovey?" "Hm?" "I love you so much my heart almost always wants to explode." You confess to him, and he swears he could cry, but not now. Leon scoops you up in his arms and lays you down the kitchen table unceremoniously. He covers your body with his and he kisses you all over, while you're wide-eyed and sighing whenever his lips land on your skin, leaving a trail of heat. Calloused hands slowly pulling up his old shirt to expose your bare breasts as he rains kisses down on you. Worship and devotion, Leon kisses the valley between your breasts, thumbs massaging your nipples while his kisses trail south. His fingers hooked on your panties before he gently takes it off of you. His lips follow south, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs down to your calves. He grins at the glistening wetness on your pussy before he presses a chaste kiss on your clit, another one, and another one before lapping at your wetness like you're a goddess feeding him ambrosia. Because Leon is a starved man, but with your appearance in his life, his hankering for love, affection, company is quenched and more. So he loves you with his mouth until you cum on his tongue. Your fluids coating his stubble but he doesn't care. When his cock slips inside you, he doesn't move, not yet. He puts his weight on you, lacing his fingers with yours because he doesn't just have sex with you. He makes love, because you are the embodiment of love for him. You savor his fullness, and he delights in the way you clench around him. Sometimes he wonders if there is another way to be even closer to you, to be one with your very soul. His thrusts are slow, he doesn't focus on roughness. That was for when he's stressed, or when he has gotten home after an op and wants to feel you, to anchor himself in your warmth. You lazily wrap your legs around his waist and sigh, your hands bringing him down as you cup his cheeks to let his forehead rest on yours. Deep blue eyes that hold the deepest depths of his love for you, and you stare into that ocean and dive with him. When you cum, you cum together. Basking in that love with the beating of both your hearts and the syncing of both your breaths. After a moment of silence, Leon smiles and whispers: "I love you so much that my heart wants to explode."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon x you #leon x reader #leon scott kennedy

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sukunasweetheart · 1 year

Text

warnings; trueform!sukuna, yes two big dicks, female reader, overstimulation, breeding, double penetration, biting, scratching, rough sex, bruising, cum inflation

word count; 1k

just a short little one shot because i wanted to post something with double dicked sukuna lmao

trueform sukuna being so disgustingly horny for you, his two oversized cocks aching to always get inside your holes, feel the way you stretch from them as they push the air out of your lungs. whenever you share a bed with him, he just cannot keep his hands away, constantly itching to feel you up, feel your skin beneath his fingertips and watch you whine whenever he squeezes a little too hard.

he thought he'd long lost his sensitivity hundreds of years ago, but he feels every single one of your light, feathery touches, when you lay your hands on him, trace his tattoos, bring your lips to the crook of his neck - when you touch him, it is the only thing he solely feels. suddenly, he becomes much too sensitive; your warmth, your scent, your voice and your gaze, he feels every single one linger on his senses. he remembers what pain feels like when you rake your nails down his back, the stinging being prominent but pleasurable to him.

“i’m gonna die- i’m gonna die,” you babble as he’s all up in your guts, while he merely grunts above you as he thrusts harder.

“you won’t die,” he chuckles, both of your holes squeezing him delightfully - “if i wanted you dead, you would’ve died long ago.”

two of his hands have a firm grasp on the underside of your thighs, while the remaining two are pinning your wrists down against the futon, preventing you from thrashing around and putting more scratches onto his back and shoulders. the mouth on his stomach sucks and licks at your already aching cunt, the tip of his tongue flicking at your swollen clit.

sukuna fights in numerous outrageous battles every day - and even then, it’s difficult for him to break a sweat because of how powerful he is.

but right now, a thick coat of it covers his abs and muscles with a clear sheen from how he fucks into you passionately. you make him feel things again, a feeling different from the thrill he receives on a battlefield.

“n-no more... i can’t,” you cry out, tears streaming down your cheeks and sweating very much yourself - beads of it gathering on your temples.

“you don’t get to decide that,” sukuna tells you, his unmerciful thrusts continuing to pummel you, the both of them reaching so deep. the base of his cocks are covered with your creamy spend, dribbling down to his heavy balls that are full - not yet emptied. he won’t be satisfied until he pumps you to the brim with his seed, just the way you deserve.

your insides tighten on him, and he groans hoarsely, being strangely vulnerable to arousal today.

“fuck.. fuck... you always say that i’m too much - you’re equally as bad,” he mutters, hips stuttering from your clenching holes, his precum dribbling out from each sensitive tip within you.

“if you want me to stop, why don’t you quit sucking me in?”

your chest heaves, desperate to get more air into your lungs, since the overstimulation keeps chasing your breath down. sukuna slows his pace just by a little, since he can’t have you passing out yet.

when he observes your face, he can’t help but think about how your lips look a bit lonely. leaning down, he offers you a kiss that threatens to devour you.

you feel the twitch of his cocks inside you, and you understand that he’s finally beginning to get close to his orgasm. sukuna’s hips get faster and rougher again, the noises of skin slapping against skin getting loud. he feels your whimper on his lips as he tongue kisses you feverishly.

the grip on your thighs and wrists gets tight. the rhythm of his thrusts become erratic. you can feel him start to breathe heavier.

“shit- goddamn- it’s like you were made to fuckin’ milk me dry,” he pants, eyes becoming half lidded.

“please... i want your cum- please cum inside me,” you plead, voice choking up from how he roughs your body up. your eyes are practically begging, revealing how much of a whore you are for him.

sukuna doesn’t manage to slip another snarky remark in before he reaches his mind numbing orgasm, both of his dicks pulsing inside of you as his cum spurts out messily, tainting your walls with its thickness, and you feel it stuffing your ass full, while the one in your pussy rests against your cervix, spilling directly into your womb.

he groans with all four of his eyes shut, cumming buckets worth of his seed in you. yet, your holes still seem to pucker him, as if to want more and more. sukuna growls and suddenly lurches forward to sink his teeth into your shoulder, making you gasp and throw your head back against the futon, dizzy from the abrupt pain and from being filled up relentlessly.

once he’s done emptying himself, he detaches from your shoulder and grabs your face to give you a final kiss before pulling his now limp cocks out of you. immediately, his spend leaks out, dribbling onto the soft material underneath you.

phew, he thinks to himself. he feels relieved and replenished. as a wrap up, he grabs his kiseru pipe that is placed off to the side, taking a drag from it and blowing out a gust of smoke languidly.

when he gazes at you again, he sees how utterly ruined you are, bruises embedded on your wrists and thighs, tear-stained cheeks, your stomach looking a little full from how much he’s pumped into you. not to mention that one apparent bite mark on your shoulder. you take shallow breaths, still recovering from the session.

sukuna places a hand on your chest, the warmth of his palm soothing you a little.

“breathe,” he advises sternly. you obey, opting to breathe in more deeply so that the oxygen reaches your lungs.

“uraume, draw some water in the bath for us.”

“good.”

he takes another puff from his pipe, and then puts it off to the side again.

the steam from the warm water rises up, comforting your sore muscles. sukuna had carried you all the way here, and now, you rest on his lap in the water, playing with one of his hands. he slicks his wet hair back, not minding your clinginess. but, he does keep eyeing the teeth marks on your shoulder.

with a swipe of his palm over the wound, it vanishes.

it’d be bad if it got infected, after all.

Masterlist

tagging; @luvkun4 @yuujispinkhair @sukunastoy @skunaskitten @nemoyr

#finally #i worked my ass off to write this #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x you #true form sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you

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rinhaler · 7 months

Text

I Finally Decided On You

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ⁭rin itoshi x f!reader

Genre: smut & angst Notes: in my feelings abt a friendship break up so have some angst heheheee Warnings: 18+, mutual pining, angst, pet names, cheating, dacryphilia, tit sucking ♡, vaginal sex, choking ♡, love bites, breeding kink, creampie ♡ Words: 5.8k

“You’re lonely, aren’t you?”

Your breath hitches as the words make their way into your brain. His eyes have been fixed on you for what seems like a lifetime, but it’s only after you hear him ask something so personal, so intimate, that you can bring yourself to look at him. His glimmering, jade eyes are so striking, so captivating, you can’t help but want to bare your soul to him.

“You shouldn’t ask me something like that.” you whisper, unable to hide your smile as you are both all too aware of the irony of your sentence. There are so many things neither of you should be doing right now.

And yet, here you are, allowing the 4am sky to encase your bodies in a melancholic blanket. You’re waiting for one more sentence to spill from his lips that will have your deepest secrets tumbling from yours.

You know him.

He knows you.

And it’s so comforting.

You’ve never felt like this with anyone before. He’s so easy to talk to, and even easier to be around. It’s almost like a punishment. The worlds cruellest joke that you’re being subjected to.

“You shouldn’t be in my bed, but you’re here. So, talk to me.” he smiles, effortlessly. A smile that he’d only ever show you. An expression that only you are worthy of and the only person he’d ever trust to experience it. It’s so loving. It’s like being home.

You’re quiet, your own smile fading slightly as you think about his question. What had you done to make him even ask it? You’re lonely. Is that true? You have friends, family, a lover. Realistically, you can’t be lonely.

“I am.” you tell him, honestly, finally finding his gaze once more. Allowing him to scan your trusting eyes so he can see there isn’t a trace of a lie. And he does, stare, until he looks at your lips briefly, and then back to your eyes.

“You’re lonely?”

“Yes.”

He hums, thinking about it for a moment. You don’t deserve to feel that way. Though it may be his heart talking. It might be the fact that he’s head over heels in love with you.

Every moment with you is so saccharine, so disgustingly dizzying that it could make him vomit from excess. He can’t get enough of you. He’s ravenous for you.

Your taste.

Each kiss you allow him to take is so seraphic, your candied lips cloying his insides. It hurts to be with you sometimes, he knows what this is and what it will be. He knows what he is to you and what he will never be. He hates himself, and honestly, he hates you a little bit in that same breath. Though he locks that feeling of loathing deep down inside, he doesn’t want to feel it. He doesn’t want to care that much.

Whatever you are to each other now, in this moment, is enough.

His face nears yours, and you observe him as his eyes close. Yours close too, gently, and you feel his lips on yours. His hand cups your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he deepens the kiss only slightly. He pulls away, eyes glittering as he observes you. He’s making sure you’re okay, that what he just did was okay.

And it is.

He pulls you closer to him, enveloping your body in his before carefully planting his lips on your cheek. He sighs, a little. The heavy, disheartened breath rushing through your ear canal. It makes you shudder, so he holds you tighter.

“You aren’t alone, you know.” he tells you, quietly. You feel tears pricking at your eyes as he starts speaking. He cares, so much, you can almost feel his passion vibrating from his skin and passing through you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know.” you sniffle. “It’s just hard.”

“I know.” he agrees, kissing atop your head as a show of comfort. He just can’t get enough of you. He can’t stop himself from being with you like this, even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t. These moments with you are his main source of happiness. Getting to know you so viscerally is everything to him. Whenever you’re together, like this, he gets to peel back another layer of who you are.

“I’m so—” you stop, your eyes catching his again before you brush away the thought. You’re playing with fire, with him. You’re letting him scrutinize your body as you bare your self-inflicted gaping wounds. Allowing him to decide whether to pour alcohol and salt into your ruined flesh. “I’m just sick of feeling like shit all of the time.” you sigh a little before laughing.

“Don’t.” he huffs, his thumb stroking your face again. It’s a bid to make your body submit to his. “I don’t like it when you perform for me.”

You smile, again, nodding in acceptance as you take his word as truth. It makes sense why he isn’t fond of you acting for him, though for some reason you can’t seem to help yourself. Wrapping your body in an invisible gauze as you do all that you can to prevent your lacerated skin from becoming infected by him.

“Rin?” you whisper again, almost hoping he won’t have heard you say his name. “Do you love me?”

The question almost wounds him. You see his eyes begin to tremor as he wonders if you want him to answer that. And answer it genuinely. He rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Your bodies are mirrored up above, and he can’t help but stare at his own reflection as he contemplates how to answer. His heart skips a beat when you inch closer to him, wrapping an arm around his torso as you caress him and await his response.

He hates how little effort you need to make to force him to smile.

“Yeah.” he tells you. But he doesn’t look at you, still staring at himself in the mirror above. It’s a confession for him as well as you. “I’m in love with you. Is that okay?”

Of course he’s asking for permission to love you. Though even if you were to say no, it’s not like he could just stop his feelings. It isn’t okay, of course it isn’t. Nothing about what you’re doing is okay. Whatever you’re not meant to do always makes you feel most alive. It makes you feel excited. And right now, you feel wanted. You feel loved.

You don’t feel lonely.

You’re quiet for a moment, but you hope the smile you’re donning will show that you’re appreciative of his honesty. It takes you a while to think about how to respond. You could say it back, but what good will it do? If you don’t say anything, you’re sure he’ll be upset, but he won’t tell you that. You don’t want to hurt him, that’s the last thing you want.

“Thank you.” you tell him.

He doesn’t say anything to that. He closes his eyes, a soft chuckle emanating from him as he processes the rejection. In his mind, that smart, logical mind of his, he knew you wouldn’t say it back. Why would you? Even if it was true, it’s too messy. It’s a disaster waiting to happen, you both know it, so why would you say it back? But then again, why would you ask his feelings in the first place? His heart is screaming at him with every aggressive beat against his ribcage. It’s telling him, despite the logic working overtime in his brain, that you love him too.

“Do you love me?” he wonders, finally allowing his head to roll to the side again so that you’re making eye contact once more.

And you’re silent. You can see in his eyes that he’s pleading with you to reciprocate his feelings. To verbalise them. He wants you to mean it, though. He’d rather you not say a word than lie to him.

But, he knows you.

He knows your mind body and soul and he truly believes that you feel the same way about him. So tell him, won’t you? Lay your heart bare and just tell him the truth. No matter what the world throws at you, he’s certain you can handle it, together. Whatever concerns you have, he’ll protect you. Any repercussions you think will follow you from following your heart, he won’t allow. He’ll do anything for you. Anything to be with you. So look into his emerald eyes and be honest with him.

Be honest with yourself.

“Please,” you start, “please never ask me that again.”

The words cut like a knife. Or rather, he feels like he stopped existing the moment you finish your sentence. It’s like being in a car accident and dying on impact. He looks up at the ceiling again, closing his eyes, knowing the tears are soon to pour from them if he doesn’t get a grip.

Why would you say that?

You still haven’t given a clear answer. And really, he knows why you said what you did. It’s self-preservation. Maybe you think you’re protecting him, too. But you aren’t. You’re the reason his heart beats and this is the reason that it will stop. Every moment from now will be agony. Without an answer, you’ve given him one. And he despises you, now. He thinks you’re selfish.

He thinks you’re a fucking coward.

“Then… what is this?” he wonders, still not daring to widen his eyes and give you the satisfaction of seeing him cry. You can barely stand to look at him now though. Not when he’s being like this. You don’t want to hurt him, truly. But there’s no use in giving him hope that isn’t there. This is for the best, you’re sure. “Have you just been using me for the last two years? When you’re… fucking lonely.” his own breath hitches and he wants to disappear. From your line of sight, from the room, from the fucking planet.

“It’s not like that, Rin.” you sigh, and it’s almost breathless as you try and conjure the right words to alleviate his pain. There’s nothing you can say that won’t hurt. The damage is done. You’ve broken him. “You know the first time was a mistake… and then it just kept happening… and then—”

“And then you—” he balls up his fists until his arms begin to tremble. But he takes a breath, anger leaving him as he exhales. He’s always been good at that. He always knows when he’s getting too worked up and knows how to take it down a notch and compose himself. He’s calculated with everything he does. But he supposes you’re the exception. There was nothing calculated in regard to you. He fell into this fucking mess with you, because it’s you. “… Don’t you think the fact we’ve been making the same ‘mistake’ for so long means it might not be a mistake.” he talks, quietly. You can’t tell if he’s asking you a question or simply speaking words for you to hear.

You don’t answer. What can you say? You can’t contradict yourself now. It’s a valid point, of course. Is a repeated mistake truly a mistake? Maybe you and he are made for each other. Being with him could be easy, if you wanted. Being honest with yourselves and those around you might be easier than you think. Being able to hold his hand and go out on dates like a normal couple. Could it really be so simple?

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” you respond, bluntly. It’s harsh. The words make your mouth swell with discomfort and a horrendous desire to burst into tears. Nothing else will get through to him, you think. Being nice is getting neither of you anywhere. You gulp, and it’s like swallowing razor blades as you see how fucking shattered his face becomes.

He scoffs, a little, and sits upright in bed. You chase him, somewhat, sitting upright beside him and placing your hand on his shoulder. And you gasp, quietly, as he shrugs away from your touch. Your defeated hands fall into your lap as you continue to sit beside him, your eyes alternate from looking at his side profile to your twiddling thumbs.

Rejection was always bound to come eventually. He wishes he never opened his mouth, though. The delusion could have carried on a little while longer. Why did you have to ask if he loved you? You surely knew already. His mind roars at him to run. He’s staring at his sneakers placed meticulously by his wardrobe as he thinks about where he could go. Anywhere away from here.

Away from you.

But the child in him… is resilient. He’s never been one to accept true defeat. He’s never been the type to give up on his dreams or quit when he truly believes there is a chance at happiness for him. You see his hand move to his obscured cheek, and you’re sure he’s wiping away a tear.

It’s all but confirmed when he looks at you. Teal eyes almost illuminate the room as they look at you. Crystalline droplets reside in his lashline, and his eyes keep shimmering as they take in every solitary detail of your beguiling face. He can’t lose you. You’re perfect for him.

And he loves you.

He leans towards you, and you don’t fight it. Your lips slotting beautifully against one another as you melt into his kiss. It’s prolonged and it’s deep. You feel as though he’s giving you everything he has. Everything he is as a final farewell. The thought of never seeing him again makes you break away, panting desperately before you comb his hair out of his face.

“What are you doing, Rin?” you whisper.

This time you’re left without an answer. He grips his fingers into your soft hips and helps you move above him, straddling him so that he can look up into the eyes of the woman he loves more than he ever has or will love anyone.

“Play with my hair, please.” he whispers back against your bare skin as he lifts your tank top to expose your breasts. You do as he asks, combing your fingers through his hair again as he sweetly kisses your erect nipples. The only sound filling the room is his puckered kisses and your laboured breaths.

You hum, intoxicated, as kisses turn to suckles. They’re soft and careful, your skin breaks out in bumps as your flesh tries to huddle together to keep in the warmth. Your heart skips a beat when he looks up at you, briefly, before focusing on your tits again. He wraps his arms tightly around your torso in a bid to pull you closer. Your cotton-clad mound humping against his straining cock in the process.

He grunts against your skin when he feels the wetness pooling on your panties transferring to his boxers. One of his hand roams to squeeze the fat of your ass, a squeaking yelp escapes you as you feel thick bruising fingers dig into your supple flesh. He gentle nibbles your swollen tits, eliciting a mewl from you that speaks to your infatuation with him. Whether you care to admit it or not, he knows your body enough to understand the truth.

“Rin,” you shudder, throwing your head back in an attempt to gain some distance from what is happening and retrieve your thoughts. He doesn’t stop, though. But his eyes meet yours again when you return. He’s listening. He’s clinging to your every thought. “I-Is this really what you want?” you ask him. And he nods, slowly, relinquishing one nipple from his mouth with a pop and licking his cherry bitten lips.

“’m not a mistake, baby…” he tells you in hushed tones before sucking your neglected nipple momentarily. He means it, too. You don’t think he’s a mistake. In truth, you think the world of Rin Itoshi. You wish you met at a different time. Things could be how you both want them to be. But this is how things are. You feel tears you hadn’t given permission begin to roll down your cheeks as you think about how lowly he views himself because of you. You are a fucking coward, you always have been. “I can be right for you, princess. I can.”

You hear him sniff a little before he continues making out with your aching tits. And you push his hair out of his face again, getting a perfect view of his lusciously long eyelashes. You can’t see his pretty green eyes from this angle, they’re focused intently on your chest. But his eyes snap to your when he hears you sniffling too.

“Rin… I-Is this—?”

“Do you want to do that thing you like?” he asks, breath fanning over your spit soaked tits as he snaps you from your thoughts. He encourages you to move a little as he hooks his fingers into your panties and tries to pull them down your legs. It’s clumsy, and it makes you laugh as you shuffle around awkwardly until they’re off. And he throws them across the room before your lips crash together again.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you kiss him. He swallows your moans like they’re holy and he’s fucking greedy. He manages to snake his hand between your bodies to free his length. And your vision strays to see it. His gorgeous, pretty cock. It’s beautiful and pink, though the darkness of the room hides it well. You know it from memory by now. But you can’t mistake the drooling precum leaking from his slit and down his shaft as he strokes his length at a steady pace while he kisses you again.

But you break it once more.

“You like it… you like it, too.” you smile, thinking back to what he’d asked you moments ago. He smirks against your lips, kissing you again before looking down at his length as he attempts to guide it into your heat.

“That’s right.” he nods, licking his lips. “’n it feels the best when you ride me… so sit on it.” he commands. He clenches his teeth as his tip sits comfortably in your sticky interior. You’re so tight and wrap around him so heavenly. As though you’re made solely for him. In his mind, though, that’s exactly what you are. He hisses, eagerly, as he feels the conflicting constrict of your cunt tightening and releasing repeatedly as he remains there. It’s like you aren’t sure if you’re trying to suck him in further or push him out completely.

His fingers curl around your dainty wrist, guiding your hand to his neck and encouraging you to squeeze. You do, softly, and you can’t help but smile when he laughs breathily.

“Sit on it, princess. S’all yours.”

The squeeze becomes tighter as you slowly sink on his length. Your jaw drops willingly as you moan through the stretch. And Rin, God, he’s fucking beautiful. His eyes roll over white as your pussy envelops him until you feel his pretty tip nudge your g-spot. You kiss his cheek. Again, and again and again until his vision returns to you.

He likes it. No, he loves it. But only because it’s you. He’s been with plenty of women, but he’s never been in love. He’s had feelings for partners, but never love. He can’t imagine letting any of them choke him the way you do. It makes him heady, but only because it’s you. The first time you did it he wanted to protest, to tell you in no uncertain terms that he isn’t interested in that kind of thing. But the word no could barely escape his lips before he came inside you after you squeezed the sides of his neck oh so deliciously.

“F-uck, Rinnie…” you moan as you start to rock your hips against him. His hands gently hold your waist and help you in your efforts, your breath catching in your throat as your clit catches against his pubis and trimmed hairs. “You’re s-so deep. Feel you h-here…” you point to your lower abdomen as you carry on rocking against him, your grip on his neck easing as you feel pleasure begin to surge through your nervous system.

He's speechless, though. He knows he’s big and doesn’t feel a need to reiterate it. Instead, he pushes his palm flat against your tummy as you continue to get yourself off. You moan, louder. Drool forming in the corner of your mouth as you keep going and going until your legs begin to give. And he pities you, he does. So much so that he holds your hips tightly and helps you rise and fall on the full length of his cock again and again.

Each impale is rapturous. The pleasure is fucking blinding as his heavy tip slams repeatedly against your sensitive soft insides and you mewl blaringly, no care or consideration for neighbours that might be trying to get a full eight hours before that dreaded sunrise approaches any minute now. You can’t possibly care, not when a cock so perfectly made to mould the shape and ridges of your pussy to suit it’s domineering size is ruining you so divinely.

“Don’t stop.” he reminds you, his hand covering and squeezing your own around his willing neck, encouraging you to persevere. The way your clutching fingers hug the column of his throat is beauty personified. Like a scene from a renaissance painting before your very eyes. And his eyes are blown to hell, full of lust, “harder.” he smirks, greedily. And you always do as you’re told. You want to be good for him after being so cruel. You want to please him after being so cold. You want to love him after being so harsh.

“I—” you start, your words becoming trapped in your throat as your cowardice springs to the forefront of your mind. Though, is it really cowardice? Or is it just the right decision for both of you? For peace of mind and an easy life, it is.

“Yeah?” his eyes practically glitter in expectation as he awaits your sentence to be brought to completion. You are cruel, cold and harsh. Because you’ve gotten his hopes up yet again. And you can’t have that, you just can’t.

“I’m, c-close…” you alert him. His eyes widen in surprise. It hasn’t been so long since you started. Are you lying? He can usually tell. He studies your face and feels the way your cunt constricts around his length as you draw near your demise. You’re honest, only sometimes.

“N-N.. uh… can you hold it? F-For me, princess?” he asks, pleads, really, if his watery eyes are anything to go by. You aren’t sure you can, but you nod anyway. You’ll try your damndest, for him, anything for him.

He manoeuvres you carefully onto your back so you’re lying beneath him. You remain wrapped around him the entire time, like he can’t bear to be apart from you for even a second. You can’t blame him, either, you don’t want to remember what life feels like without him snug inside of your welcoming cunt.

His eyes roam your body as he cages you in below him. Emerald jewels taking in each and every inch of your perfectly bare skin. Every detail, every crevice and pore. It’s all so beautiful to him, and hasn’t become a boring sight to behold in the entire two years you’ve been doing this.

Both of your hands cradle his head, fingers interlocking through the back of his hair. He looks into your eyes and you can’t help but smile. This is how your life should be. When you see how much love pours from his eyes as he looks at you, you know this is how things are meant to be. But it’s a shame, they aren’t. You feel your heart break in two as reality crashes around you once again. But he leans down to kiss you, silently asking your permission to keep going.

“Please, Rin.” you nod.

“Okay, I’ve got you.” he kisses your neck as he begins to shallowly thrust into you again. You mewl softly as you feel him suckle the skin covering your clavicle, and it’s sure to bruise, but you don’t care. You’re sick of caring, now. You just want to feel this. Enjoy this moment. You want to enjoy Rin.

He pushes your thighs gently, spurring you to wrap your legs around his hips in a bid for you to hug him tightly. You hook your feet against one another, and you feel like a koala clinging onto a tree. You don’t mind though. You feel safe, like this. A safety you’ve never felt from anyone at any time. He’ll keep you safe, always, because he loves you. All he wants in this moment is for you to feel good and for him to be the reason. You cock your head, curiously. And he wastes no time satiating your lust with a kiss.

Your moans feel suffocating as your throat swells with the desperate need to share them with him. But you can’t. Not when he’s pressing his lips to yours and trying to inhale your every breath and any other offering you can muster for him. He can’t let you go for even a second, he thinks. This is all he has. He needs to remember.

He looks upset when you turn your head to break the kiss, but his thrusting doesn’t cease. They slow, however. Opting to fuck you deeper. He wants to explore depths in your cute cunt that neither of you know even existed.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice quiet but laced with concern. It’s hard to even think as his thrusts seem to be whisking your brain into a pink mushy paste.

“I can’t—” you pant, “hold it… m-much longer!” you warn him.

“Oh.” he chuckles, and burrows his head into the crook of your neck. He kisses. Sucks. Makes it known that you’ve been with him. A final bid to make you his, though it will surely amount to nothing. “That’s okay, let go, baby…” he tells you.

You bite your lip. A momentary gesture before you find your pleasure crescendo from his faithful pace. He kisses sweetly along your jawline, humping into you hard enough that there is a steady slapping resounding through the bedroom. You note how the sun seems to rise and birds begin to chirp as you topple over the edge of your orgasm.

He could bathe in your sweet moans for the rest of his life, he thinks. They seem to harmonise with the birds singing outside. Your fingers dig and claw into his shoulder blades as you don’t let up. It’s all so tantalizing, a song he’d happily play on repeat for the rest of his miserable life if he could.

You clamp around him and feel a swell of pride in your chest as you hear him moan for you, too. Your cunt floods with warmth and you’ve never felt so wanted. Part of him wishes you weren’t on birth control. Part of him wishes that it would fail so that there’s a reason he can truly make you his. But he knows he isn’t that lucky. And he knows it’s wrong to want those things, too. He doesn’t even want a kid, really.

He just wants a reason to keep you.

Your chest heaves as he collapses on top of you, hugging you closely. You fear that your sweaty bodies may meld together permanently, until the breeze from the open window rolls in. Cooling your dampened skin slowly but surely. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, though. Being stuck to him. There’s always fantastical ideas conjured from absurd imaginations that give you cause to be together. It’s the only way, you think.

It can’t be as simple as you want to be together.

You can’t just love each other so much you can be together.

You need a reason.

A very good fucking reason.

“Are we going to be okay, Rinnie? Things haven’t changed, right?” you ask him, almost scared to speak but not enough to stop the flow of your words. You feel his body tense up, and at that point you know things have indeed changed. But change can be good… you might just be delusional, though.

“I’m going to shower.” he says, coldly, peeling his body from yours. And it stings. He couldn’t give you an answer, and you know that translates to him only having an answer you won’t like. He’s cruel, mostly, but never with you. With other people he can be rude and mean. But he’d rather be silent than do that to you. And it hurts. Fuck, it hurts. It’s all such a mess and everything is fucking ruined. “… are you coming?” he asks, looking back at you as he heads towards the bathroom.

And there it is.

The flame of hope he can never truly let die when it comes to you.

Your eyes flicker open, the room fully bathed in the light of the mid-morning sun. Rin is sitting at the edge of his bed. Legs covered by grey joggers and his torso bare. The shadows and light contrasting each other and painting an alluring portrait of toned musculature across his back. He shields it from you, though, as he pulls a t-shirt over his head.

He stands up, collecting the towel he dropped on the floor as he got changed. And that’s when he sees you’re finally awake again. He curses himself when he smiles at you, still unable to believe how easily you can make him do so.

“How was your nap?” he asks, calmly, tossing the towel expertly into his laundry bin.

“I don’t even remember falling asleep…” you admit.

Though you do remember cuddling into his side after your shower. Your towel is loose around your body, the one wrapped around your hair is crumpled up atop your pillows. He didn’t sleep a wink, he savoured the feeling of you clinging onto him like you might actually love him. But his mind was also plagued by the future. About what happens next. He doesn’t get nervous, usually. But now, as he looks at you in your most natural form, he’s legitimately scared. Scared of everything crashing down around him.

“I… your clothes.” he tilts his head, gesturing to the folded clothes on your bedside cabinet. You thank him, quickly, dropping your towel and hurriedly getting into your jeans and tank top you wore over here in the middle of the night. “I want to be with you, properly.” Rin confesses, focusing intently on his hands before daring to look up to you. Your expression is sullen, unsure of how to respond. You hadn’t expected to hear him say something so bold, not after what you said to him earlier. But you suppose he’s had time to think.

“I just don’t know what you want me to say, Rin.” you sigh, shaking your fingers through your still damp hair. Little droplets flying to the wood floor below.

“I want you to tell the truth… I know you love me. I know you’re just scared. I know you want to be with me, too. I don’t get why you’re doing this. I don’t know why you’re punishing yourself… or me.” he approaches you, walking around the bottom of the bed and grabbing your shoulders with fervour as he wills you to be honest for the first time in your life.

“No.” you shake your head and move away from him. “It isn’t right, you know it isn’t.”

“It’s not right? I’ve loved you for two years and you’re telling me that’s wrong? And I know you feel the fucking same, so please, please baby—”

“I have to go, I can’t do this.” you feel fresh tears roll down your face as you begin to search for your purse. You feel like your fucking heart is going to explode. And he doesn’t bother hiding his upset, either. Because he’s made up his mind.

“This was goodbye, then.” he informs you, and your movements halt as you look at him.

“What?”

“I’m not being this… joke. I’m not going to be your shoulder to cry on when you’re lonely. I’m not going to fuck you, you can’t just come here when you feel like it. I’m done, I can’t do it.” he takes a deep breath as he finishes, knowing that this is really over. It’s killing him. “I love you, and it hurts. This really hurts. But you’re not the girl I thought you were. I thought you were kind and I know you love me too and that’s why it’s fucking— I feel like I’m dying. I don’t get why you’re denying yourself of this.”

You sigh, slipping your feet into your white slides and trying to fight back tears. He thinks everything is so simple. He thinks you can both just live a fairy tale life and be happy, but that isn’t realistic. He isn’t being realistic and maybe that’s your fault. You thought you’d been clear about what this is between you. You hadn’t intended to make him feel used. You didn’t want to hurt him and you didn’t want things to end like this.

“Okay.” you shrug, fingers grasping the door handle as you prepare to leave.

“What’s so fucking special about Sae?” he sobs, quietly. You can’t bear to look at him. Your heart is already breaking and you know looking at his defeated face will give your vital organ cause to split into quarters. “As kids, he was always better at football. He’s older, he’s the favourite. But he doesn’t even treat you right, he doesn’t love you. I do, I love you so what’s so special about him, princess?” he drops his weight onto the bed below, sitting on the edge again as he wills you to face him. His stomach ravaged by butterflies as he waits for an answer. Any kind of answer that will give him some clarity.

“Nothing’s special about him, Rin…” you sigh, again, giving into his desire and offering him the eye contact he craved. “I just met him two years and a few days before I met you.” you sniffle loudly before hurrying out of the door, slamming it behind you unintentionally as you run to the elevator.

He lets his head fall into his hands as he begins to bawl. The knowledge finally setting in that this is really the end of this chapter of his life. The story of you and him is complete and the ending is fucking devastating. He rests his head against the wet pillows you’d left in such a hurry. The scent of your lotions and perfume still clinging to them. And he cries more, covering his face entirely with his hands.

He’ll always lose to Sae, that much is clear.

If only he’d met you first.

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raisedbythetv89 · 2 months

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Listennnnn to be loved is to be seen

Buffy is SURROUNDED by people who project and project and project some more onto her without ever truly seeing her and just trying to force her to be whatever they want/need her to be often leaving her feeling used, abused, and lonely.

And so while yes on the surface the Buffy bot is icky as hell and obviously irl all of us would be rightfully horrified if that happened to us. This is fictional and with a still evil but trying to be good but with no human soul to help guide him on how to be good Spike - who has been rejected and is honoring that rejection and finding a solution to leave real Buffy alone by giving him a place to put all his feelings for Buffy somewhere that isn’t Buffy herself - programs her so well and therefore showing how well he sees and understands her!! NO ONE ELSE could have programmed that exact Buffy that was believable enough to fool her friends. So yes it’s twisted but this is a vampire falling in love with the slayer if you want completely healthy truly go elsewhere lololol but so the bot is used to show just how well Spike truly understands her and more importantly what he loves about her which given the partner she had right before this was Riley who VERY CLEARLY hated how strong she was and that she was the slayer…

spike is like SHE NEEDS A DEDICATED SLAYER FOLDER

HE PUT THE YEAR WILLOW CAME OUT IN HER BIO ��😭😭😭 angel and riley truly could never in a million years pay close enough attention to the people in her life that Buffy cares about to add info like that

The choice of “make spike happy” instead of something like “pleasing spike” feels significant because it’s able to encompass a wider range of things including her care for her friends since that seems to be the active folder when she’s accessing information on them. Buffy caring about other people makes him happy even though he’s morally grey at best at this moment 😭 AND TWO KISSING PROGRAMS ARE THE VERY FIRST THINGS IN THAT FOLDER 😭😭😭 he doesn’t just “want to fuck her” like people try to claim he wants to love her 🥲 he wants her kisses like I’m gonna throw up from how disgustingly tender and heartbreaking that is

Buffy bot calls both her and Buffy very pretty and tells Giles he “should listen to the other Buffy because she’s very smart”. Spike made sure the Buffy bot was a Buffy that loved herself and valued her intelligence like I cannot even begin to tell you how NONE of this is your run of the mill making just a sex bot of your crush because not being able to have sex with them upsets you. He wants to love her because he knows she needs it as much as he wants to give it to her

We have this moment where Buffy bot has finally found Spike who she’s been looking for and worried about the whole time and seemingly only cares about him and no one else and she sees he’s SEVERELY injured yet when Giles calls for help Buffy bot responds at the same time as Buffy does and runs to his aide leaving Spike like she’s still just so BUFFY at her core even if the superficial aspects have been changed 😭

if we compare this moment to the one in something blue where xander calls out for help in the crypt in an IDENTICAL situation yet ACTUAL BUFFY just continues to make out with Spike when he’s not even injured at all 💀 like Spike didn’t even give Buffy bot the “extra love sick” component Buffy herself exhibits for him on multiple occasions 😭

and of course - WE END WITH THIS KISS AND THE WAY SHE’S FUCKING LOOKING AT HIM BRO 😩 she’s like holy shit he was for real when he said he loved me no one has ever done anything like this for me while simultaneously showing how COMPLETELY loyal and obsessed they are and how well they know and love all of me AND my sister like

‼️I CAN DEPEND ON HIM‼️

So close to death even Xander is feeling sympathy for him yet clocks IMMEDIATELY it’s her and she’s just like hi 🥹 yes it’s me, I really just did that. I see you and what you did for me. HAVE HOPE KEEP TRYING DONT GIVE UP.

If Buffy loves you she forgives you pretty easily and I personally think that’s what we’re seeing here with Spike like kissing him in the same ep she learns of the Buffy bot is low key CRAZY 😹 but truly people who have done less for her have done far worse!!! The bot kept dawn and tara from being taken instead and he proved he would protect both of them with his life and like she already loves him which is why she even went for the kiss she was like REALLY THE SITUATION CALLS FOR IT WHAT’S A GIRL TO DO 🤷🏼‍♀️

#this post all started literally just from noticing the gay 1999-present 💀#spuffy #embarassing freak couple #spike and buffy #spike x buffy #spuffy season 5

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astroph1les · 7 months

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this love | chapter one [h.c]

summary: your prince suitors have been driving you insane. after a scene you make at a ball, the king and queen have decided to put their foot down and have a knight look after you. knight meets princess. princess has conflicting thoughts about knight.

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: isabel being the sweetest girl, lonely princess who is misunderstood, knight!hazel, charming!hazel, king and queen are not the best and it won’t get better from here ://, hazel is readers gay awakening (real.), no y/n!

word count: 4.7K

a/n: everything will kind of start next chapter with hazel and reader’s beginning dynamic. this is just introducing how shitty the reader is treated and the royals beliefs.

The royal life.

The poor desired what came with royalty. Wealth, status, comfortability, security, love, and even. Whatever that may be. You envied those who weren’t a part of this life.

The corset underneath your, while stunning, uncomfortable gown suffocated you while you danced with yet another new suitor who had traveled across the seas to Rockridge Palace. Prince Jeffery Williams had been the sixth — hopefully final— prince to attend yet another one of these balls that the king and queen insisted they throw for you and your suitor to get to know one another.

Prince Jeffrey would not stop talking about himself as you slow danced and it was driving you up the wall. He was somehow incredibly louder in volume than the live orchestra.

On top of his ability to talk about all of his successes, which you were sure were entirely made up, he had wandering eyes… and hands. You shouldn’t have had to move his hands from below your hip back up to your waist as many times as you did.

After the third time and disgustingly cocky smirk, you had enough. Out of impulse, you raised your foot to slam it down onto his boot-covered one. Jeffrey let out a squeal that made you smile to yourself but quickly put on a feigned expression.

“Oh dear, Prince Jeffrey. I-I must have two left feet.” You place a hand over your heart, gasping as if you didn’t deliberately harm him.

Prince Jeffrey folded over to hold onto his now throbbing foot, face turning a beat red as he forced out a chuckle. Every other maiden and man that surrounded you both had stopped their dancing to stare and gape at the scene.

“I feel faint. I must go lie down.” Prince Jeffrey excused himself, smoothing down the front of his deep navy blue tailcoat. “Until we meet again, Princess.”

“Until then.” You bow with the fakest of smiles before clearing your throat.

Jeffrey scurried away to his guest room in the palace, his own personal guard following right behind. The music resumed, much louder than before as you locked eyes with your mother from across the grand room conversing with Jeffrey's mother.

You could feel her anger radiating through her heavy breathing and sudden excusing herself from the queen of Jeffrey’s kingdom. Other townspeople moved themselves out of the way as your mother swiftly made her way towards you.

There was a slight chance you may have gone a tad far with the aggression.

“Oh, sweet pea,” your mother sing-songs as she approaches you, hands folded elegantly in front of her torso, “Is it time for bed then?”

You knew there was a hint of anger laced in her sickenly sweet words. It wasn’t to fool you, though, but the surrounding guests. There was no fighting her, at least, at that very moment.

“Mother, I do feel quite drowsy. Would it be alright to head to bed?” You plaster on the same faux smile, sucking in a deep breath.

“I would highly suggest it. Now, go on then. I must tell these disappointed guests that the ball must come to an end.” Her smile unknowingly dropped as she ended her sentence.

You nod your heavy head, turning on your heels to make your way out of the grand ballroom to your bedroom. As you keep your head down to avoid the wandering eyes and whispers of: ‘Where’s the princess going?’ and ‘What happened with Prince Jeffrey?’. You hear footsteps trailing behind you, turning your head slightly to see the one person who could stand to be around in this entire palace.

“What did Prince Jeffrey do?” Isabel, your handmaiden and only friend, questions who as she sped up to walk side-by-side with you.

You sigh, retracting the groan that was threatening to escape.

“He was a conceited and handsy idiot just like Walter, Arthur, Abraham, Edmund, and Bennett. I couldn’t stand him, Isabel. They are quite literally all the same.”

Isabel visibly frowns, nodding along to your words. You tilt your head up to glance at the dulled hallways of the palace. Paintings of your family line hung up along the velvet red walls — four-time great-grandparents in order down to you and your elder sister; Moira.

“Well, this has already been the sixth suitor. The King and Queen already said that you had to decide by your twentieth.” Isabel carefully reminded you, fiddling with the string of the front of her simple yet beautifully fitting dress.

“That’s just it. I don’t have any desire to marry. Especially to men like that.” You seethed, approaching your high bedroom doors.

The divine vine and floral gold design decorate the dark wood. You wrapped your fingers around the handle to tug it open, grunting softly at how heavy the door was. Isabel quickly rushed to your aid, pulling the door backward. You thanked her quietly before marching into your room.

“Is there anything I can do?” Isabel kindly asked you, only wanting to make sure you were feeling okay.

“If you could just help me get out of this ridiculous dress.” You let out a groan which caused the green-eyed woman to chuckle.

“Of course, princess.” Her tone was teasing as she approached you from behind to begin undoing the laces that were keeping the corset tight on your aching body.

You huff out a soft laugh at the words as you insisted multiple times that you hated being addressed as Princess by the maidens, knights, guards, and kitchen staff that lived in the palace. Especially Isabel. She was more than just your handmaiden and personal attendant, she was your friend that you cared for.

Once she unraveled the last lace, you breathed correctly for the first time since your mother and the other maidens forced you into the constricting dress. She patted your tense back with a sigh.

“Better?”

Nodding through a soft pant, you say: “Incredibly.”

You both chuckle as you gradually sit on your large mattress.

“Anything else you may need?” Isabel questions as she stands next to you on the bed, torso meeting your temple.

Your eyes soften at her question, calming down as you take in a deep breath. You take her soft hands in yours, shaking your head.

“You’re too kind to me, Bel. I think I should just lie down now. You should rest as well before I have to endure whatever my parents will say tomorrow.” You nod, your voice is equally as gentle to her.

Isabel nodded, not having much more to add to the conversation. It was now entirely too late for either of you. The sun had been set since the ball began, the darkness taking over the once bright blue sky.

“Well, we’ll speak more in the morning.” Isabel nodded curtly, giving your hands a single squeeze.

“First thing.” You nod, releasing her hands.

Sharing one more smile, you watch as she leaves your grand room. A lonely feeling settles in your chest as you begin to undress for the night. You knew in the morning you were going to endure your mother and father’s scolding and lectures about how to not ‘embarrass their lineage’ and how ‘childish’ you were.

If you were silent enough and held your breath, you could hear the voices from the ballroom; disappointed and angry with the event ending early. Maybe you had gone too far this time with Prince Jeffrey.

No, he was not appealing by any means.

Left in your slip dress, you slowly crawl underneath the silky sheets covering your large mattress. Once your head laid down on the sheets, you fell into a familiar exhausted slumber.

You were awoken from an empty dream by the morning horns, the sun's rays beaming in through the tall windows near your bed. You sat up quickly, pushing your frizzy hair out of your face.

Without any sort of warning, you hear your bedroom door swing open. Following in were three of your usual maidens who helped you get ready in the morning. Isabel then trailed in soon after, flashing you a quick smile as you appeared extremely tired.

“Morning, princess.” All three of the maidens speak in unison causing you to quickly put on that fake persona.

“Morning, Mildred,” you nod towards Mildred; tall and blonde. “Vivian,” her baby face and dark skin shine as she bows. “Beth.” Her fiery hair shone in the sunlight as she, too, bowed in respect towards you.

“The king and queen have called you in to share some crucial news in the throne room,” Mildred speaks up, eyes boring into yours.

Your brows furrow immediately at the different choice of words. After incidents like last night, it would be the same from either of the girls: “The king and queen are requesting your presence.”

News? What news could there possibly be?

“Well, I should get dressed then. Can’t have them waiting too long.” You nod slowly, removing your now warm bed sheets from your body.

Isabel rushed to your wardrobe as Beth scurried to your side to help you out of bed.

You were exceptionally privileged and you were aware of it. Especially in these instances where you could easily dress yourself and make up your room but the maidens did it for you. It makes you feel lazy and useless.

“This dress should be perfect. Not too tight around the waist and flattering.” Isabel approached you with said dress in the palms of her hands, grinning kindly.

You trusted her so you thanked her quietly, allowing them to take over.

Within minutes, your tossed sheets were made finely by Mildred and Vivian. Isabel and Beth helped you into the dress, making sure your undergarments were hidden by the other fabrics.

The fit was quite pleasant, you must admit. The front was a bit lower than you had thought but you had rarely been so comfortable in your wardrobe without it just being those undergarments.

Your natural hair flowed down and over your shoulders, a black ribbon tied to keep half of it out of your face. A few flyways escaped but you enjoyed how it frames your face. The girls clamored around you, hands on every part of your dress to smooth out wrinkles.

God forbid the princess appear imperfect in any way.

Once they had finished getting you ready, they left the room, leaving you and Isabel to walk down the beautifully decorated halls to make your way to where your presence was requested.

“Do you have any idea what this news could be?” You mutter softly, eyes locked on Isabel’s side profile.

“I’m not sure if it’s true but apparently in the late of the night, the king and queen discussed assigning a knight to look over you,” Isabel whispered as her eyes darted to the line of knights that were passing by the two of you.

The metal clanked as they walked in an orderly fashion. You assumed it was for training as they tended to take about two hours to train before standing in their assigned places around the castle.

“Look over me?” You asked in disbelief.

You weren’t a toddler that needed to be looked after. You already felt your blood boiling as you were approaching the grand archway of the throne room.

“That was all I heard passing by Linda and Nina in the kitchen this morning.” Isabel quickly whispered.

Linda and Nina were older women in the kitchen who, although talented in the kitchen, gossiped about you constantly. You assumed it was jealousy of either your title or your youth.

Your eyes darted from the high marble archways to the gold-lined thrones that sat both of your parents. Your attitude was already set in place as you walked up just a few feet from them. The stomping of your everyday flats echoed against the floors, revealing how irritated you already were.

“Father—“ You began with annoyance laced in your tone.

“No!” His deep voice echoed, cutting you off as he slammed down his staff.

Out of the corner of your eye, Isabel flinched at the loud sound. Your breathing was heavy as you maintained eye contact with your father. He didn't scare you as he did his overly dramatic actions.

It only increased the amount of hatred you had towards him. Your mother remained silent, glancing at your father before flickering her eyes back to you.

“I am going to talk. You are going to listen and not interrupt me. I have had it with this… humiliating attitude you’ve decided to put on.” Your father seethed, a vein on his neck protruding. “Prince Jeffrey is a guest in our kingdom and you embarrassed him. This temper is childish. You will be twenty by mid-July and you’re behaving this way. Moira had not been so stubborn about her suitors as you have.”

You felt your nostrils flare as of course, he was blaming you for the way Prince Jeffrey had reacted last night. It was never a man's fault, no. Only you and your temper. Throwing you and your elder sister’s differences in your face as well wasn’t unheard of.

“You must formally apologize to both Jeffrey and the Queen effective immediately.” Your mother intervened, her tone rather calm in comparison to your father.

You remained silent, simply nodding to her words. There was no point in arguing as you knew they were going to shut you down. You watched as your parents exchanged a look before shifting in their thrones.

“Now, because of your rather upsetting actions the night prior, your mother and I have chosen a knight to make sure this doesn’t happen again.” Your father sucked in a deep breath before continuing his words. “Dame Callahan will be your knight.”

Your eyes narrowed as you heard ‘dame’ instead of ‘sir’. There were very few knights that were women so you were automatically expecting there to be a man. You knew of Sir Callahan as he was a noble knight that you’ve known since you were a child but not Dame Callahan.

“Sir Callahan has a daughter?” You question, folding your hands in front of you.

This was certainly news to you. You weren’t even aware that he had a wife to begin with, let alone a secret daughter.

“Indeed. Now, she’s only had her knight status for a year but hopefully, you’ll adapt to her professionalism. Learn from her.” Your mother answers, her brows raising at you accusingly. “She should be arriving any minute now.”

As if right on cue, you hear the horns from the guards outside echo faintly. You turn your neck to glance at the hallway that leads to the main entryway doors.

“Well,” your father cleared his throat, “Let’s go and properly greet them, yes?”

Your eyes locked with Isabel who was already peering down the hallway where you all were headed. You approach her with a forced grin, locking your arm with hers as you take your time walking towards the grand entrance. Her eyes soften as she knows you are feeling a range of emotions about this whole arrangement.

“How are you doing?” Isabel hums, trying to keep quiet as the king and queen are just a foot behind you two.

“Other than absolutely infuriated,” you suck in a deep breath, tilting your head at the freckled woman, “Alright.”

Isabel nods, not knowing what to do now. You knew you were being short but you didn't want to say something you didn't mean out of anger towards the kind woman. You simply pressed your head to hers gently to show you were listening.

“I’m sure Dame Callahan won’t be as difficult as your parents are.” Isabel sighs, keeping her volume quiet. “You might even like her. Make a new friend that isn’t me.”

You gape at her words, nudging her with your hip as you both chuckle to yourselves. You cherish these fleeting moments of joy, holding onto them to keep for your worser days.

“What are you insinuating?”

“Nothing.” Isabel shook her head, her laughter fading as the front door guards were now holding the heavy wood open.

You glanced at Isabel once more before releasing her arm to walk past the guards in their uniforms of the castle's flag colors, watching as they bowed as you and your parents passed by. You nod in response before stepping out on the open staircase, the sun’s beams burning into your skin.

Rounding the corner of the gates was a person on a dark brown horse — borderline black. You feel Isabel’s tense presence along with your father’s looming figure and your mother’s petite one.

You fixed your posture, taking in one deep breath as you awaited her arrival.

“Oh, sweet pea, this dress was not the most appropriate choice.” You hear your mother utter as she judgingly ranks her eyes up and down your frame.

“I can’t change now, Mother, so it’ll have to do.” You snarkily replied, eyes locked ahead of you.

You didn't have to be facing your mother to know she did not appreciate your response. Letting it go for now, you, your parents, and Isabel begin to wave at who you assumed to be Dame Callahan. The stranger knight tugs on the maritangle causing the horse to stop in its tracks right in front of the impressive stone steps.

Callahan begins to make her way up the steps, giving you a better look at her.

It had to have just been you, but you took in how perfect her skin appeared as she grew closer. You could feel Isabel’s eyes burning into the side of your head, clearly waiting for some sort of reaction to Dame Callahan.

First, she greeted both of your parents addressing them with their assigned greetings. Her voice was velvety, charming almost. You waited patiently for her to greet you, hands flexing anxiously by your sides. She didn't appear knight-like as all she was wearing were a pair of black boots, a simple commoner-appearing outfit, and a leather belt that held her sword in that same leather material.

“Princess,” she addresses you before kneeling on one knee, gingerly taking her hand in her gloved one. You tense as she leans her head forward to place her lips on the back of your hand.

Her eyes peer up at you, her dark lashes highlighting her alluring blue eyes. You hadn’t uttered a word yet, completely forgetting all the words you’ve ever known. Dame Callahan releases your hand once she notices how eerily still you’ve become.

“Princess, I’ve heard a lot of things about you,” Callahan speaks again, adjusting the belt on her waist to respectfully smile at you.

Has she already let go of your hand? You thought to yourself. You feel a sharp bone drive into your lower back which causes you to inhale, becoming aware of what was going on. You caress the hand that she had kissed before holding your hands in front of your hips.

“I hope they were all good things.” You reply, regaining your proper posture.

“Yes,” Dame Callahan replies, a small chuckle leaving her lips. “Though, they surely forgot to mention your beauty.”

You blink. Did she just compliment you? It could be an out-of-respect situation. Kissing up to you as you were certain that your parents weren’t that kind with informing Dame Callahan about being assigned to you.

“Oh, well,” you nod, feeling out of your own body. “Thank you, Dame Callahan.”

“Of course, Princess.” She, again, responds with such a poised attitude.

You were feeling extremely conflicted about Dame Callahan. A part of you wanted to get to know her; starting with her first name. Another part was admiring her side profile as she spoke to your father and mother. Why were you admiring her in the first place? You weren’t entirely sure.

“Well, Dame Callahan could settle into her new manor as we prepare the welcome lunch.” Your mother spoke up which caught your attention. “Sweet pea?”

You blink and turn to your mother to see her waiting impatiently for you to say something. Dame Callahan’s head was tilted with furrowed brows as you seemed to be zoning in and out of the conversation.

“Oh! Right! I can show you where you’ll be staying.” You send Dame Callahan a short grin, afraid to stare at her for too long.

The new knight nodded, respectfully bowing at both of your parents and Isabel before stepping to the side to allow you to go first. You begin to make your way down the steps as the manor for the knight's living space is a tower away from the main palace. The hot sun beeped down on your skin, a cool spring breeze brushing past your flowing hair.

The whole walk to the manor was eerily quiet. Neither you nor Dame Callahan were making any form of small talk. All you could hear were the horses huffing a few feet away in the stables, the clinking of metal from the other knights in uniform, and the chirping of the birds in the surrounding trees.

Your shoulders brushed for a mere second as she walked alongside you. You could see from your peripheral stealing glances at you like she wanted to say something but not uttering a word. To be fair, you were doing the same thing.

As you approach the large wooden door, you turn to her as you pause right in front of the entryway. She, too, pauses her steps with you, eyes locking on your face.

Why was her stare burning into you more than the sun? It felt so intense.

“This is the knight’s manor. I will see you around the lunch hour then.” You say.

Out of fear of flushing in her presence, you avoid pouring your eyes into her bright ones.

Dame Callahan nods, and a crinkle between her brows forms. “Is everything alright, princess?”

“Yes, of course. I think I’m just hungry.” You nod slowly, a nervous smile forming on your face.

Could she see right through you? It sure seemed like it. Callahan simply nods, knowing better than to press on such a matter, especially with a princess.

“Right, yes. I’ll just…” She trailed off, pointing to the door.

Your eyes followed her finger before a wave of embarrassment washed over you. A nervous laugh left your lips before nodding and waving your hand towards the door.

“Until lunch then.”

Dame Callahan’s lips quipped into a smile that seemed endearing. She placed a hand on the iron ring and tugged the door open. She bowed ever so slightly.

“Until then, princess.”

The door shut with a loud clunk, flinching at the sudden noise. For the rest of the morning, all you could think about was the way she said ‘princess’ towards you.

Lunch-time arrived in the middle of an etiquette lesson with Mrs. DuBois. The bells went off causing you instantly slouch in your seat. Your back was killing you from how aligned you were forcing onto yourself.

“We’ll continue this lesson tomorrow.” Mrs. DuBois sharply tapped at your back to get you to straighten your posture. “Though, I do not understand the point of this. You slouch so much, you are becoming a hunchback, princess.”

You send her a tight-lipped grin as you smooth down your dress. Isabel was waiting patiently for you in the corner of the room so she could walk you out.

“Lunch calls.” You force a laugh out.

Mrs. DuBois, unamused, nods before turning her back towards you and Isabel. You frown at her obvious attitude before motioning with your head towards the door. Isabel got the hint and gave Mrs. DuBois a quick goodbye.

Once they were out into the hallway, you began to chuckle with Isabel at how stuck-up Mrs.DuBois was.

“She said I have a hunchback, Bel. How dramatic is that?” You scoff, shaking your head.

“I swear, she’s never once felt an ounce of joy in her entire life.” Isabel added on, rounding the corner.

You two are giggling when you walk into the enormous dining hall. You could smell the delicious stew the staff had cooked for you all. You caught sight of Dame Callahan already sitting at the elongated table.

Right in front of your seat next to your mother.

“She’s sitting right across from me.” You slow down your feet, growing anxious to approach the table.

Isabel furrowed her brows, following your eyes to see Dame Callahan already conversing with your mother. Unable to comprehend what was wrong about that, she asks: “Is that bad?”

“No. Not necessarily. Just…” You trail off as you approach the table with Isabel.

You couldn’t even think of a valid excuse for how you felt about her place at the table. Why was she doing this to your mind? Maybe it was the thought that from this point forward, she was going to be quite literally around every corner, near you around the clock from dusk to dawn.

Sure, Isabel was already that but she had been around you for years. Dame Callahan was new and a stranger.

“Oh! Sweet pea, we were just discussing what exactly Dame Callahan will be doing whilst being your knight.” Your mother looked over at the intimidating knight, an overly friendly smile on her face.

You glance at your mother before taking your place right next to your father, Isabel sitting on the other side of you. All of the bowls of steaming hot beef stew thankfully distracted you as you patiently waited for your father to signal that it was okay to eat.

By that, you meant ‘the king always eats first.’ Once he took his first sip, you began to dig in shamelessly.

“So, Dame Callahan,” your father started, voice deep and booming.

“Yes, sir?” She perked up, eyes wide with patience.

“Your father never mentioned your name.” He plainly stated.

You, too, were curious about her first name, eyes darting over to her sharp features that were highlighted by the sun peeking in through the large windows. Her eyes flickered to you, strangely enough, before uttering her name.

“Hazel, your majesty.” She nodded, a smile forming on her perfectly pink lips.

Hazel. It suited her, you thought. Its simplicity was beautiful.

“It’s a lovely name.” You confess, sending her the least awkward smile you could muster.

Hazel’s eyes locked with yours. Her smile matched yours; genuine and kind.

“Thank you, princess.”

You break eye contact first, feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of her stare. You continue eating, eyes dancing from person to person as they add to the conversation. After everyone listened to how Hazel’s journey was to the kingdom, it was around the same time that everyone was finishing up their bread and stew.

“Well, I believe this is the first time you’ve not spoken during a feast,” your father speaks up, eyes locking on yours.

“I don’t have much to say, father.” You quip.

“You’re not always that way, sadly enough.” His tone was quite obviously degrading and meant to humiliate you.

You prod your tongue into the inside of your cheek, wondering why he was starting this right now. Hazel had just arrived and he was already trying to pick a fight with you.

“Oh, your majesty, it’s alright. I think I’ve talked enough for now,” Hazel quickly buts in.

You glance at her, furrowing your brows at her unexpectedly. She was looking directly at your father for just a moment before sending you a soft look.Your father hadn’t replied back to Hazel’s quick words but you feared he might. You straighten your back and clear your throat as you stand up, smoothing down your dress

“I’m feeling full now. May I leave the dining table?” You stare expectantly at your parents, hoping they would just let you this one time.

Your mother simply nods as you turn to Isabel who had already finished her meal. She took that as a hint to leave as well, nodding respectfully towards your parents and Hazel. Her familiar arms lock with yours as you walk down the hallway to venture to your room.

“She seems nice.” Isabel spoke first, looking at you for confirmation that you felt that same way.

You didn’t know what to feel.

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#hazel callahan #bottoms movie #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms 2023 #wlw #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan fic #knight hazel

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girlboypersonthingy · 2 months

Note

Hey! I saw you were starting to write for Blitzø so I’d love to request something! Could you do Blitzø x fem or gn reader in which reader comforts him after he has a very bad day and reassures him about his insecurities? That man needs to let himself cry in front of someone and also needs a hug! I love him sm I need more works where we can comfort him!! 🫶🏻

SORRY NOT SORRY I SKIPPED OVER LIKE 6 OTHER REQUESTS BC I NEED TO WRITE THIS ANGSTY BLITZ REQUEST IMMEDIATELY ITS TOO GOOD IM SO- 😳🥺 I just wanna hold him…enjoy, anon~

Notes: imp!reader, gn!reader, not an established relationship but mutual crushing and pining, reader works at IMP, angst to fluffy comfort

Blitzø x reader- Bad Day 💔

Blitz had the shittiest shit day ever and was ready to fall asleep and stay asleep forever. Between feeling excluded and lonely after seeing Millie and Moxxie’s displays of affection during dinner at Ozzie’s, then Fizz and Verosika giving him shit in front of the entire restaurant and Stolas being disgustingly clingy as always, Blitz felt himself breaking down, deteriorating from the inside out. It really stuck with him when he heard a restaurant patron shout, “YOU’RE SLEEPIN’ WITH AN IMP?” when referring to him and Stolas. What an embarrassment for both of them. He already has a very low self-esteem and that comment just solidified all his intrusive thoughts- no matter who he’s with, how successful he becomes, how much money he has, he’ll always be just an imp.

Blitzø stumbled through the front door of his apartment, rapidly proceeding to Loona’s room with a small smile. His precious girl always cheers him up, even when she’s in a bad mood…which is always. At the exact moment he sees the note on her door saying that she is out at a party, his smile drops to a disappointed frown. With the upper half of his body hunched over, his arms dangling limply by his sides, he trudges over to the couch and collapses on it with a huff.

This feeling was way too overwhelming- he felt suffocated by his clothes, pushed around and beaten by his own mind. He felt defeated and had no idea how to get himself out of this state of mind. He pulls out his phone to scroll through some pictures, maintaining his lonely frown the whole time. Blitz rolls his eyes at an old pic of him and Verosika. Then, he finds himself looking at a photo of his mom, sister and him, so happy, so close. After only seconds of looking into the picture, all his feelings unexpectedly erupt from him. The tears forced their way to the surface, gushing down his red and white cheeks. His chest felt like it was gonna cave in any second now, his lungs forgetting how to breath calmly.

“Fuck…” He chokes out while tossing his phone aside and sprawling out over the couch. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He couldn’t stop the tears from welling up and overflowing, he couldn’t slow his breaths, he couldn’t even open his eyes they felt so swollen already. He had never felt so alone before. Laying on his stomach with his wet, snotty face in the pillows, he completely lets loose. A guttural, miserable, shaky moan leaves him as he weeps, his fists clenching around nothing in particular.

Just as he sucks in a quivering gasp of air, the sound of the front door opening caused him to hold his breath and stay completely still. “Blitz?” Fuck…of all people to walk in on him during his pathetic mental breakdown, why you? He’s literally praying that you’ll just go away but he knows you won’t, you’ll keep looking until you find him. He knows this, but he stays hidden and silent on the couch until you finally walk around and see him.

“Blitz? Whats wrong? What happened?” Stepping over to him quickly then kneeling on your knees beside him, he seems to retreat even further away. Blitz scoots into the couch more, turning his head away from you as he exhales then inhales and then holds it again. “Are you okay?” Obviously, he’s not okay but he nods his head anyways. “You can talk to me, Blitz.” Finally, he lets out all the air he was holding in. “I don’t wanna fucking talk right now.” He manages to mutter out between hiccups and sniffles. “Oh…okay.” Your voice a soft whisper now, Blitz again finds his hands balled up into tight fists, his fingers digging deeply into his palms. Dammit…he did mean to snap at you.

But instead of abandoning him, you shimmy your way onto the couch next to him, one arm coming to wrap around his torso as you lay your head against his back. You can hear everything with your ear to his back- his shaky breathing, his soft whimpers he’s trying so hard to hold back. “We don’t have to talk. We can just…lay here. I’m with you, okay?” You pull him closer, his back up against your stomach as you give him a gentle squeeze.

He tried so fucking hard to conceal it, to play it off in front of you, he really did but he lost it again, crumbling apart right in your arms. After hearing the sweet words of reassurance you offered him and the way your hand was now rubbing slowly across his heaving chest and the way you didn’t leave him…he can’t help but let it all out. Blitz softly shakes against you, making your heart ache for him. You’ve seen him in so many different moods and different situations, in so many silly costumes and you’ve heard some pretty vile things leave his mouth but you’ve never seen him like this. He was an absolute mess.

Slowly and carefully, you scoot closer, fitting your knees perfectly in the back of his. With a slight hum and one hand still rubbing his chest, you close your eyes as you rest against his back still. “Is there anything I can do for you?” Softly, you speak as Blitz exhales deeply once again. “Anything you need, just say the word.” Your hand stops the rubbing of his chest as you take a moment to squeeze him again.

“Don’t leave me…” With a crack in his voice, Blitz finally responds before curling in on himself even more. “I’m not going anywhere, promise.” As you nuzzle your cheek against his back. Your reply calms him, allowing his body to finally soften into your embrace. Together, you lay like this for a while, finding comfort in the sound of each other’s breathing.

Eventually, Blitz weakly turns himself around to reveal his somewhat improved mood. His eyes are puffy and glossy but the tears had stopped. His frown is a nasty one, one of the worst you’ve ever seen him wear but his eyes show a hint of something more positive as well- a look of hope? admiration? appreciation? Now facing you and looking at your face right there in front of him, hope, admiration and appreciation all swelled within him. He felt so lucky to have you, as an employee, as a friend… and maybe you two would be more one day. Maybe more…today? Right now?

“Do you think I’m… just a stupid imp? That I’ll always be seen as just an imp?” He can’t bring himself to look at you now, eyes scanning the ceiling instead. “Do you think I’m just a stupid imp? Is that all you see me as?” You immediately reply, watching as he starts to over analyze the situation. “No, no, of course not. You’re…fucking awesome.” His eyes land on your face for a second before they shift back to the ceiling. “So are you, boss.” Blitz scoffs lightly at your words, giving you a disapproving glare. “No! Really! I mean it, Blitz.” A soft sigh comes from him and he’s having a hard time believing your words.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You say with a light hearted tone and a small smile. Gently, teasingly you reach up to his face and use your thumbs to pull the corners of his mouth up into a smile. “Awww! There he is, there’s my guy!” As you pull your hands away, a smile finds your face as you notice his smile doesn’t fall, he’s smiling for real now. It’s not a big smile, honestly it’s barely a smile at all but it’s something. It’s better than the horrible frown he had on earlier.

“You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?” You ask cautiously, not wanting to upset him anymore. “I’m sure.” His reply is immediate and short, making you stay quiet after. Instead of using your voice, you go back to comforting him physically. With one hand on his cheek again, cupping his face this time, Blitz leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. Simultaneously, you both close your eyes and let out a deep breath.

As you let your thumb trace back and forth over the skin of his cheek, Blitz opens his eyes again and takes this chance to just stare down at you, at your eyelashes, at your skin and any little scars or blemishes that decorate it, at your lips as they part momentarily to suck in a breath. Without thinking it over, he kisses you. It’s quick, not necessarily soft because he came in kind of fast but it wasn’t hard or sloppy or anything like that. It was sort of a test of the waters for Blitz. He wanted much more than a measly peck from you but he didn’t want go all in on you and scare you off or weird you out.

To his surprise, before he can get a good look at your reaction, you’re chasing his face as he pulls away. As you lean forward, a shocked ‘mmm’ rumbles from Blitzø’s throat when your lips meet his again. This time, the kiss lasts longer. It remains sweet and simple, there’s no tongue, no spit or even much movement from your mouths at all. After locking lips for a few seconds, you part to finally look at each other. Your smiles mock each other’s, both growing bigger and bigger.

This isn’t at all how either of you imagined your first kiss together. Blitz had something more rough and dirty in mind but he’s beyond grateful that you still respect him after seeing him in such a lowly position. You’re not sure what comes over him as he stares at your lips but he confidently yanks you back into him, kissing you again.

With his mouth still covering most of your own, he mumbles, “Earlier, you said anything I need and now I need you.” The kiss is deepened by Blitz carefully moving his lips against yours, both your heads tilting to find the perfect position. His hands roam up and down your back at an extremely slow pace as his mouth follows along, moving in tandem with yours.

“Yes, sir.”

And the rest of the evening is spent gently coddling and lovingly appreciating each other at such a close range. The kissing lasts so long, that eventually you’re both just lazily pecking each other on the lips over and over and over again with closed eyes and relaxed limbs. It’s nice, it’s simple yet romantic and Blitz has never felt more safe or comfortable in his entire existence.

“And if you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You’re right, I won’t. But please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

#blitz helluva boss #blitzø x reader #blitz x reader #blitzo x reader #helluva blitzo #blitzø #blitzo #helluva boss blitz #helluva fanfiction #helluva boss fanfiction #helluva x reader #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss #hellaverse #blitzo helluva boss #blitzø helluva boss #blitzy #helluvaverse

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holy-puckslibrary · 4 months

Text

━ 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — bull-rider!MATTHEW TKACHUK x barrel racer!hughes!reader (can be read as an unnamed oc) wc — 1.8k synopsis — wear the hat, ride the cowboy—even if it might get you disowned.

note — there's one line referring to the reader as jack's twin, but no physical description is given. also, this one-shot is a "party favor" from our feb slumber party

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — quinn being a dramatic, misogynistic douche-canoe 3000 for the entirety (ratty matty has his moments, too), no actual smut but it's heavily implied they do the dirty on the reg, a disgustingly intimate situationship — ick, off-color comment(s) relating to first times and the concept of virginity, lots and lots of familial angst (jack is a snake), oh! and more than a few loose ends... but you know the drill by now, i'm incapable of keeping a story contained

“Go on, Palomino Princess. Ride me like one of your ponies.”

Condescension drips from the lazy taunt. Matthew earns a palm to the chest for it; her ire lands with a faint thud, but he doesn’t mind. He gets off on riling her up, and after two years of backseat meetings and hushed phone calls, he’s damn good at it too. That, and she might be the most reactive person he’s ever met—and that’s saying something.

Matthew’s been going head-to-head with all three of her brothers for over a decade, and he’s known their family for even longer. Having a short fuse must be genetic.

“Y’won’t break me if that’s the hold-up. S’gonna take a hell of a lot more than a dry humpin’ buckle bunny to put me outta commission, sweetheart.”

He knows damn well she ain’t anywhere close to the derogatory term, but he likes what the complete disregard for her accomplishments does to her deceptively cherubic face.

It may look less harrowing than every other event on the card, but barrel racing ain’t for the faint-hearted. The event is a death wish personified, and it feels about as good as someone taking a metal pipe to both shins. It takes balls—metaphorically, in her case—to charge into an arena on an American Quarter horse with the intention of guiding it through a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels while sprinting at top speed, but it takes dedication and skill to succeed the way she has. The winner is determined by just thousandths of a second.

The woman perched on his tailgate is unmatched—undefeated.

Flames of pride lap at his loins, the fire of desire stoked by the wicked roll of her hips.

“Ohh—shit!” Matthew hisses, his head lolling back as his hips buck into her heat.

She smirks, apparently vindictive as ever. “How’s that, cowboy? Everything you dreamed?”

“And more,” he growls as he grabs a fistful of her backside.

His grip is tighter than it needs to be as he switches positions. Not nearly as rough as she would prefer it; beggars can’t be choosers.

Matthew steps between her knees, and, despite herself, she shivers with anticipation. Chuckling, amusement twinkles in his baby blues. “Now give me a kiss, sweetheart. My lips are feelin’ a little lonely tonight, and you happen to be wearin’ my hat, Little Miss.”

He flicks the brim of his hat. She catches it before it hits the ground before plopping it back on the rightful owner, the damage already done.

“You just love that antiquated rule,” she shakes her head while most definitely laughing at his expense. “Y’wouldn’t see any action without it, now would you?”

Matthew grins. Trading insults is his favorite form of foreplay. “Neither would you. Isn’t that your signature move, outlaw?”

“I should kick you to the back of the line with that attitude. Hell, I’d probably be better off keeping you at a distance anyway.”

“Keep mouthin’ off and see how far it gets ya. Definitely nowhere near that McMansion castle you call home, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout me, sugar. I’ve got plenty of options if I need a ride home.”

“I’ll bet, show pony. Sexiest can chaser east of the Mississippi; who wouldn’t be chomping at the bit to carry Cinderella home to her Daddy?”

Men have a habit of gawking at her; Matthew has a habit of relieving them of their teeth.

He leans in to taunt her ear with greedy lips and barbed arrogance. “Best of luck finding one that’ll fuck you better than me.”

“Do you think about other guys fucking me often?” she fires without missing a beat.

More than he would like, actually.

With a heavy, drawn-out sigh, he runs a hand over his face. His patience is running thin, and his jeans are starting to chafe. Exasperated, he tries coaxing her to reason, “Sweetheart, c’mon. We both know you want this—want me. Stop makin’ this so damn hard.”

“Why? Because you already are?”

Matthew makes an exaggerated show of play-biting her scrunched-up nose.

“Woman, you drive me insane.”

“It’s why you’re so obses—“

Her teasing is thwarted by the sound of her own name. Spat out of her older brother’s mouth like a heirloom gone sour, it's no great surprise Quinn looks at her like he can’t recognize her. Like a stranger—like a traitor.

Guilt, thin and fleeting, pieces the tenderness between her ribs.

She squirms, attempting to put some distance between them as if that could erase the discovery—and her culpability—from his mind. Matthew and his shit-eating grin keep her from getting too far but don’t be fooled. This is no chivalrous encouragement to stand her ground. It’s got nothing to do with her and everything to do with her brother.

Quinn rages outside the hauler housing Matthew’s precious 3500 Laramie. Walking by, seeing the main trailer hitched Brady’s F-350 made his stomach churn. It didn’t sit right, and now he knew why.

“You can’t be serious! Nuh-uh, no—no fucking way. Get out here before I drag you out myself.”

At his tone, what little remorse she felt dissipates. They were both far too old for his tired, overbearing song-and-dance.

“Who died and made you king?”

Quinn, blinded by overripe anger, sweeps over the irritation, twisting her tongue and the disbelief arching her brow. “I thought I made myself clear last time. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Oh, crystal, Quinny.” Matthew snorts at the juvenile nickname but is swiftly cajoled into silence with a pinch to the side. “Message received.”

“Then quit screwin’ around and get your ass back to the truck before Dad blows a gasket. He’s been lookin’ all over for you. So, you best be thanking your lucky stars I got here first. That its me catchin’ you red-handed colluding with the enemy.”

He’s so serious, nearly shaking with rage, it’s difficult not to laugh. She can count on one hand the instances wherein her brother became visibly angry—all of them involving the man standing between her dangling feet. She fares better than him, but that’s to be expected. Unlike her accomplice, for her, there’s real risk involved.

“Just ‘cause I heard you don’t mean I have to listen.”

Lips pressed to her temple, Matthew clicks his tongue in approval. ‘Bout damn time she started giving back what Quinn so readily dishes out.

“Look, y’can spread your legs for anyone with big dreams and a buckle some other night. Parade around the circuit acting like a slut, see if I give a shit. But not tonight. And not with him.”

The knowing glint in Quinn’s blackened eyes is telling, but it isn’t as menacing as he thinks it is. The Hughes heir apparent couldn’t be judge, jury, and executioner. He doesn’t have a lick of proof. Just suspicion and a personal vendetta the size of Texas.

A safety net swaying below, Matthew decides to have a little fun. “Whoa, settle down, Trust Fund. Y’can’t talk to a lady like that, ‘specially not your sister.”

He’s no white knight, but he can pretend.

And isn’t that what you’re all doing? Pretending to be people you aren’t. Acting out your roles, putting on a show. After all, a performance will always be more entertaining than the truth.

“—and here I thought etiquette classes were a Rodeo Royalty rite of passage. Glad t’know she ain’t the only roughneck hellion in your family tree, Huggy.”

Quinn’s jaw tightens. His tongue threatens to put a hole through his cheek. Hands on his hips, the eldest sibling only nods. He ignores Matthew entirely.

“Real winner y’got there. A class act. You really know how to pick ‘em—cream of the goddamn crop. Say, what’re you gonna do when he inevitably gets bored of you? When he gets his hands on a fresh doe-eyed virgin to tarnish?”

After she finishes with Matthew, she’s kicking Jack’s sorry ass.

Those anxieties—and that majorly personal tidbit of information—were shared in confidence. Because unlike her older brother, she trusted her twin. Well, she used to, at least. Luke’ll be over the moon at the chance to be her favorite.

She bares her teeth like a scorned lapdog. “We’re not kids anymore, Q. You can’t push me around whenever you want or tell me what to do like you’re my father. And you sure as shit can’t bully me into submission, either. Give it up, or get lost.”

“Whatever,” Quinn barks as he backs away from the trailer. “Your fuckin’ funeral.”

Listening to the fading sound of her brother’s Ariats pounding through the dirt, she buries her face in the warm, familiar crook of Matthew’s neck; she needs a moment alone. He seems to understand this, his mouth zipped shut as he runs calloused hands up and down her sides. She’s breathing heavily, but he does her the simple mercy of leaving it be.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was growing on you,” Matthew hums, a low-maintenance attempt to lighten the mood.

They don’t do the touchy-feely BS. It’s one of the things that reeled him in—and kept him coming back.

“But you do.” She pulls away to look up at him, chin resting on his sternum. He hates that her melancholic eyes are red-rimmed. “—and stop thinking, it doesn’t suit you.”

“And what does, princess? I’m dyin’ for your insight.”

“Shut the door and I’ll show you.”

He blinks, taken aback. Who is this brazen tart, and when did she take your place? Matthew wonders to himself. Maybe he is the bad influence everyone paints him as… He hasn’t really thought about it until now, and it's troubling the way it makes his chest tighten.

Matthew clears his throat—and, from his mind, the distressing notion that he’s ruined someone good with his carelessness—as he leans over.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He pulls the hauler’s heavy metal door shut with clamorous finality.

Matthew Tkachuk might be the most self-serving swindler on dirt, but Quinn Hughes is just another name on his list. A box to tick and then forget. He wouldn’t lose sleep, it wasn’t like their friendship meant a damn thing. Not anymore. A friend turned foe, reduced to another obstacle in his way, a hurdle to jump.

Tonight, his sister’s fealty; tomorrow, his title.

Retribution is at his fingertips, so close he can taste it. Yet, it would seem that Matthew merely traded one hornet’s nest for another.

At least this one’s easy on the eyes.

⤑ to my inbox💌

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chososbabymama · 10 months

Text

(plug!suguru x fem!black reader)

plug!geto pt 1

head empty no thoughts, only plug suguru😩

[CW// swearing, implied NSFW, drug usage (jus weed yall i promise suguru not poppin percs or nothin), alcohol, mei mei (yes im makin a cw for her weird ass!!)]

sugu..｡oO (☆): u got me fucked up y/n, im omw.

[IMAGE ATTACHED]

shit… you stared at your phone, eyes widening in shock. you gather yourself quickly before rolling your eyes and tossing your phone to the side.

“ion even see why he’s coming over…. seems to be happy as hell with that other bitch he got” you grumble.

you see, growing up you and geto were next door neighbors. your parents thought it’d be a good idea for you to hang out together given that you would be attending the same school. through geto you were able to meet gojo, sukuna, choso, toji and nanami. you all became a close group fairly quickly, they essentially became your big brothers and did their best to keep you from harms way while also making sure they weren’t smothering you.

but your relationship with suguru was always… different. sure he had been just as protective as the rest, but he would always go above and beyond for you. girls were bullying you? he glued their shoes to their lockers and put stink bombs in their desks. some guy cheated on you? suguru sent videos of the guy smoking to his college recruiter and got his full ride scholarship revoked. you were being harassed in public? geto broke someones wrist after they tried to grab you. you were sad and lonely on valentines day? he showed up with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a bag of your favorite things, and a big ass bottle of pink whitney.

so when you guys were 16 and geto told you he was gonna start dealing, you knew things were only gonna go up from there. he had been the one who got you into smoking, from your first pipe all the way to teaching you how to roll your own blunts. geto was smart, good with money, and had that disgustingly endearing boyish charm about him. naturally customers ate it up, and he thrived in your town for being the local plug. he continued his practice all the way until you guys went to college, him and sukuna even worked together sometimes at bigger parties and events. but the one thing geto had ALWAYS made clear, was that HE was gonna take care of you. 7 months after he first started he showed up to your house with a full zip, lighter, grinder, colorful pre-roll papers, and a pretty rolling tray to match (most of this stuff you still have and use to this day). needless to say you were shocked, you can still remember the way he sat you down on top of him as he explained how the grinder worked and how tightly you wanted to pack the cone.

“don't worry pretty girl, imma take care of you. wont have to spend a single cent on flower s’long as i'm around yea?” he buried his face in your neck and maybe it was the joint talking but you could’ve SWORE you had felt his lips on your neck and the grip on your hips tighten.

ever since that day, suguru has kept his word. you had consistently gone to him when you needed smoke and you never paid for it. just tell him how much you need and within the hour its in your hands. its caused quite the issues with his hookups, they couldn’t understand why YOU never had to pay but they did. you didn't fully understand why yourself, but each and every time he’d just shrug and give them the same answer,

“she’s just special.”

he’d never let you forget that to him? you always came first.

you loved all those boys with all your heart, but suguru managed to carve a special place all to himself, and you couldn’t say you were upset about it. which is why you were so fuckin pissed off about how these past few weeks have been. despite your growing feelings for suguru, you foolishly assumed that losing his friendship wasn't worth it. so you kept your feelings hidden for 6 years as you watched him fool around left and right. you of course had your own share of hookups, but you knew that no matter what you'd still end up in your shower crying out for him as you reached your peak.

these past few months with him, have been…. interesting. for some reason your interactions with him had become much more flirtatious. whenever you sat together his arm would be wrapped around your shoulder, he’d kiss you on the cheek anytime he left the room (gojo sometimes demanded one of his own and like the good friend he is, suguru would comply), and the nicknames?

‘hey sweetness you need anything?’

‘you know you’re my number one, right pretty girl?’

‘c’mon mama you know i miss you’

it was all honestly driving you insane, the back and forth with him. the constant battle you have with yourself about his intentions. its all just…. a lot. you were just getting used to the new aspect of your dynamic when all hell broke loose. it seems like one of sugurus past hookups was upset that he wasn't paying attention to them or any of his other past flings for that matter, not when he wanted you. so, they decided to…. fix that.

imagine your surprise when you get a text from hakari in the middle of your class,

karis bitch ass: “thought geto was fw u ???’

[3 IMAGES ATTACHED]

your eyes widened almost comically as you stared at the screen. kinji had sent you screenshots of mei mei's instagram story….. with suguru. the first was a shirtless picture with him facing away from the camera (sweats hanging dangerously on his waist).

you had to blink a couple times to make sure you were REALLY seeing this shit.

the next one was a video of him at a party pouring a bottle of crown royal into mei's mouth. you were floored, each second you spent watching it, felt as though your skin was getting hotter. but the TRUE icing on the cake was the last one. the last one that led to you avoiding and ignoring suguru for 3 weeks.

the last picture was of him driving. geto looked fine as fuck when he drove. he knew that, you knew that, everybody knows that suguru geto behind the wheel was a wet dream come true. the ‘i miss u sugu~’ glaring at you from the bottom of the photo. but what really made your eye twitch, was the fact that mei mei was in the passenger seat. YOUR fucking seat. designated to you by the owner himself. at this point you didn’t know whose ass to beat first and you honestly didn’t give a shit. it really was gonna depend on who crossed your line of sight first. you gathered yourself enough to get through the rest of your lecture before bolting out of the hall. you quickly shoot hakari back a text,

‘good thing u don get paid 4 thinkin🤨’

you locked your phone before heading to the campus bus stop. today has absolutely drained you, usually geto would pick you up and take you back to your apartment but you honestly didn’t feel like seeing him. as you trudge your way to the exit you feel your phone vibrate once more.

sugu..｡oO (☆): wya mama im outside waitin for u ?

you rolled your eyes at the message and sat at the bench as you watched the bus pull up. ‘he wants to give somebody a ride so bad maybe he should go find that fuckin bitch’ you thought bitterly. you knew you weren’t being fair, shoko was a really good friend to you- she always has been! now her classmate on the other hand…. lets just say there’s a reason you two don’t attend the same functions. but geto was close to her family so there were definitely moments him and mei mei could have snuck off together….. fuck. suguru wasn’t your boyfriend. you weren’t his girlfriend. but you at least thought maybe he’d…..

you shake your head and get on the bus. as you turn on your headphones you see that suguru sent you some more texts.

sugu..｡oO (☆): y/n ???

sugu..｡oO (☆): wats goin on baby y u not talkin to me ?

sugu..｡oO (☆): did i do sumn wrong ? wtvr it is im sorry dove :(

sugu..｡oO (☆): cmon y/n seriously, wtf is goin on im fr gettin worried abt u.

each text filled your body with a disgusting amount of rage. the sense of betrayal you felt from his actions was more than you could handle.

y/n🕸️: takin the bus from now on.

sugu..｡oO (☆): y/n what the fuck are you talkin about.

you didn't bother replying. you just put your headphones on and watched the bus travel your familiar route home. your phone continuously buzzed, no doubt suguru but you didn’t have the energy to engage with anyone right now. you just wanted to go home and smoke…… smoke the weed geto gave you….. well you can't have it all.

from then on you avoided your best friend like he was the fuckin plague. at first you thought you were being discreet with it... until people started blowin up your phone. see, suguru didn't exactly hide the fact that he took care of you; that he'd always be by your side. so for people to see one without the other was a surprising development. and suguru wasn't taking it well AT ALL.

( karis bitch ass: y/n ion kno wut geto did but pls take him back he wont stop bitchin!!!!

suguru went to a party thinking you'd be there: suprise! you weren't because you'd heard he was going so you stayed home. apparently he spent the whole time whining your name with his favorite peach crown royal in his arms on the sofa. it would have been cute if you weren't so mad at him.

ino sent you a video of suguru LITERALLY pushing a girl away on some, "get away you're not y/n" with that stupidly cute pout on his face.

even yuki was surprised about you icing geto out. sending you voice memos about the shit geto does while they're out. "no y/n the best part was when he tried to give the girl the bag she tried to ask for his number he fuckin mushed her and said 'sorry im married, her name is y/n and she can fight' ooouuu she was pissed!")

it was really hard being mad at suguru...

over the past three weeks you had been a bit lonely without him. sure you had the weed and a plethora of clothes he left at your place to keep you company, but you missed HIM. the way he'd stick his cold feet on you, how he always cheats at go fish, how he'll come over and play your PS5 while you sit in the back and cheer him on, the way he looks at you. you miss suguru so fuckin much.

but you also feel betrayed.

geto KNOWS that you and mei mei don't like each other, him being the one to hold you back from her on several occasions. you know they had a thing in the past but.... why would suguru be so fucking SWEET to you if he was just gonna go crawling back to her... it didn't make any fuckin sense to you. and unfortunately, you held a grudge. one that went so far as to even go to someone else for weed. in the entire time you've known suguru, you ALWAYS got your stuff from him. no matter what was going on between you two. but this time? this time you felt really hurt, so you turned to your backup plug; sukuna.

thing is, you've never actually bought from sukuna before. he knew about your weird thing with geto and he showed support his own way from the outside. you had never failed to notice that every picture or video someone sent you of suguru, sukuna was always nearby.

(what you didn't know was that sukuna was the one who had to listen to the long-haired males woes. sukuna was honestly getting sick and tired of it...)

but imagine the pinkette's surprise when he gets a text from you that friday night asking to pick up!

y/n☽˚｡⋆: hi 'kuna ! can i get a zip pretty pls ? id ask geto but i dont wanna bother him when hes busy haha

aside from the man in question being attached to his hip (that is no exaggeration sukuna is literally sitting on the couch with his best friends arms wrapped around his waist listening to him come up with reason 34248 'why y/n is so fuckin mad'). sukuna's tattooed hands had quickly taken a screenshot of your message to send to the man in his lap. he quickly grabbed a chunk of his friends inky locks with his free hand and shook.

"hey, idiot. check your fuckin phone i think you'll wanna see this"

suguru lifted his head and gazed at his roommate with bleary bloodshot eyes, the blunt from a few hours ago had settled nicely in his skin (made it easier to wrack his brain and figure out what the fuck he did wrong). he rolled his eyes and flopped back down into the couch with a deep and heavy sigh.

"man what's the fuckin point. y/n is mad at me and wont tell me why so if she's not on my shit then what's the point of even havin a fuckin phone y'know?"

sukuna rolled his eyes and snorted,

"yeah i guess that's why she just texted me askin' for a zip, huh?"

"she fuckin what?" suguru shot up quick and grabbed his phone. his brows furrowed and he began to mutter to himself angrily. sukuna watched as suguru's frown got deeper with each second he looked at the screen. finally, he swore loudly before grabbing his jacket and his keys. "man i gotta go 'cuz now she's playin with me and im not about to let that happen." sukuna watched as geto threw on his hoodie and sneakers and ran out of their apartment.

as the plug ran down the steps he took out his phone to let you know he was on his way to you.

[IMAGE ATTACHED]

my cinnamon apple <3: u got me fucked up y/n, im omw.

which lead you to your current issue, trying to figure out what the fuck you're gonna do. you had planned to be mad at geto for at least a couple more days so him showing up like this wasn't something you were exactly ready for. you quickly scrambled to get yourself together and prepare for the inevitable conversation. you were sure he'd notice you dressed in his clothes (you had on his spider-man jacket and black headband to hold back your 613 lace). you had already rolled yourself a couple blunts so you decided to light up until the moment of truth.

as each hit filled your lungs with smoke, you could feel the anxiety fade. you hadn't anticipated meeting suguru so soon. and you're terrified of what this conversation could possibly mean for your friendship. on one hand if he decides to pursue a relationship with mei mei thats his business, but on the other, you know that it would be at the expense of your relationship with him. you haven't been able to be in a room with her ever since she outed your little sibling for being nonbinary. it had been something only a few people knew about but somehow mei's nosy ass found out and told anyone she could get to listen. now your family never backs down from a fight, your parents made sure of that. but it gets exhausting always being an outcast (being 3 years older you couldn't do too much to help, but at least they had yuji, nobara, and megumi around).

but when they came home one afternoon covered in bruises with a tired smile on their face saying, 'i won, i won' over and over again, you couldnt just sit idly. you went and showed that bitch who the fuck you were. and who you were was a fuckin maniac. you had slammed mei mei's head into a window, broke her nose, bruised her ribs, and gave her a black eye. suguru had to pull you off of her that day because you couldn't calm down. had the boys let you that day, you could have really beat the brakes off that girl. which is why her scary ass always runs away when you enter the room. instead she likes to talk shit and throw shots at you on social media.

the day of the fight, when mei was at the hospital she told doctors she had been mugged because she was too prideful to admit that she got her ass whooped.

just thinking about the shit you did to her that day brought a wicked grin to your face as you continued to smoke your blunt. if suguru wants a fuckin encore, you'll give him one alright... this blunt had given you time to think and fester on why you were so angry with your best friend. he was there for you for your worst moments, he held you as your body shuddered with sobs seeing your sibling lying in the hospital bed. he was there after your first date. he walked you to and from classes after she tried to spread a particularly nasty rumor about you. he was there when you cried yourself to sleep after your first boyfriend told you there is no way hed bring a girl that looks like you home. suguru has seen you in ways that nobody else in the world has. and his proximity to a person who actively tries to do you harm is just... unacceptable.

as time had went on you even decided to pour yourself a glass of wine and wait in the living room with your last blunt. you were really going to give suguru a piece of your mind...

not too long after you migrated to your living room and started smoking, you heard rapid footsteps outside your door followed by frantic knocks. you took your sweet time unraveling yourself from your blanket on the couch to head to the door. you opened it to find your best friend red, sweaty, and panting.... with a backpack that you were sure contained some kind of peace offering for you.

you wordlessly let geto into your apartment, taking a long sip from your glass and an even longer drag from your blunt. you blew out a sigh as he wasted no time in heading straight to your room. as soon as he set his bag down next to your bed, geto whirled around to face you with wide eyes filled with something you couldnt quite place.

"y/n baby what is goin on. first you wanna take the bus home by yourself knowin damn well how unsafe it is. then you wanna avoid me, ME! for weeks, not a peep from you, nada nothing! you even turned your read receipts off for me mamas, you completely iced me out. now i gotta find out that your tryna buy from other people? what the hell happened, what did i do to make you this upset at me?"

by the end of his speech, geto had inched closer and closer to you before reaching out to grab your hand and pull you with him on the bed. you huffed angrily before spitting out,

"didn't think you'd miss me too much since you've been spending so much fuckin time with mei mei lately. i saw her instagram stories suguru, i know you've been with her so don't even try to lie!" you twisted and tried to get away but he had a vice-like grip around your midsection.

"woah woah woah, these are very serious accusations sweetheart. now i haven't been with her for over a year you know that, i slept with her a few times but once you told me how it made you feel i nipped it in the bud. so what stories are you talkin about, hm?" suguru had leaned back from you so that he could make eye contact. he wanted you to know that he was telling the truth, he knew he was stupid to have slept with mei mei in the first night but one drunken night led to two which led to 5 or 6 times before you finally ripped him a new one for it. since then he had actually blocked mei mei on everything, he wouldn't even sell to her. shoko or utahime would always pick it up.

the reluctance was clear as day on your face, so geto quickly whipped out his phone to show you his blocked lists on his phone. instagram, twitter, snapchat, hell he even blocked her on tiktok, discord, and her telephone number. the longer you looked through his phone the more confused you felt. then what the hell....?

"so then what the fuck is this?" you showed suguru the screenshots you were sent of mei's story featuring him. his brows furrowed in confusion and his mouth itched low in irritation before geto let out a scoff.

"baby these are old as shit, i didnt even know she had these let alone posted them. see, this one in my car was literally the last time i messed with her. and she was only in my car because she had no other way to get home. all of these were before i got your initials done love." suguru zoomed in on the picture of him driving, and sure enough the red cursive ink was missing from the side of his face (you didnt know this but he had gotten that tattoo done that same day. dropped off mei and went straight to his shop).

you quickly scrolled through the other texts hakari sent you.... and they were all missing that red tattoo... well this is embarrassing.

"oh." while you were scrolling, geto's face had gotten softer as he watched the realization cross your features.

"yeah, 'oh' is right. now you wanna tell me what's goin on? you really been throwin me for a loop here these past few weeks. it really hurt my feelings seein you text sukuna for that zip. i mean, i know we're all friends and if you were gonna shop with anyone im glad it was him... but did you forget what i said? i promised to take care of you, so why you not lettin me?" geto peered at you with such a sad expression and you started to feel bad.

you really didn't think he would be this affected by it, yeah he'd be bitter you shopped with someone else but you thought he would get over it. you didn't know you hurt him this bad. you situate yourself and him on the bed so that you could wrap your arms around his shoulders. you knew that tonight would include a much deeper conversation with him, one that you've been steadily avoiding since you were younger. but maybe its good that this happened, this way you can both move on with your lives.

"i'm so so sorry suguru. i thought they were recent since i hadn't seen them before. i should've known better as soon as i saw mei mei posted it. i was just so mad seeing you with her. i mean, after seeing everything i had been through with her... it was so hard to keep my cool when i found out you slept with her. it made me think about a lot, a lot about us."

you shifted to grab his face and look your first love in his widened eyes,

"suguru geto, i'm in love with you. i've been in love with you for the past 6 years. honestly? i've probably been in love with you my whole life. seein her post made me realize that i'm tired of hiding it. i don't want you treating anyone else like you do me, and i don't care how selfish that sounds. no one in this world loves you like i do, i love the way you throw gummies at satoru till he wakes up. i love how you buy kento weird ties for christmas every year. i love how you say you don't snore even though you totally do. i love that you pinky promised to take care of me and haven't broken it once. but you made a vow to be with me as soon as you promised, so are you gonna to take responsibility for what you've done to me or am i gonna have to get someone else to do it?"

your confession had started to get more aggressive as you went on, but that was just how much he meant to you. the more you talked the more you realized how much you had been holding back. loving suguru was never difficult, but keeping yourself in check was. wrestling your feelings of jealousy with each of his hookups was a challenge; they never stuck around for long but each had the nerve to test you. one had even tried texting you off his phone on some shady shit trying, but you quickly told her to give him back his phone before you played double dutch with her vocal chords.

as you held sugurus face, you could see the information process. his eyes were filled with such an intense emotion it took you aback as the biggest smile you'd ever seen danced across his face. the tips of his ears started to burn bright red as he gazed up at you.

"god i'm so fucking in love with you" you quickly shove him away in embarrassment as your love lets out a loud and happy laugh.

"sugu-!" you shout, he's so fucking unserious sometimes.

"i'm serious moonlight, you think just any girl gets tatted on me? baby i have your initials, birthday, and our zodiac signs. i didn't think i'd be tellin you this, but my very first tattoo was dedicated to you sweetheart."

now you were confused, "what? no it wasn't, your first tattoo was the one of-"

"-the stick figure? no my darling, that was the first one i showed you. i didn't wanna show you this one because i knew you'd be mad it was my first tattoo. but i couldn't imagine anything but you being the first piece of permanent ink on me." suguru could see the confusion still lingering on your face, so he slid away from you for a moment to slip off his pants. you could feel your face twist as you watched suguru strip himself half naked in your room...until you saw what he was trying to show you. he had pulled up the left leg of his boxers up a little bit, revealing a ring of words coiled around his upper thigh. you and the bright red ink practically had a staring contest. your full name (first, middle, and last), sat almost like a garter around him. the thought of that.....made your head spin.

you looked back at him and briefly caught his eyes before he swiftly turned away. he looked... embarrassed? suguru rarely got embarrassed, sum bullshit about 'bein too old for that shit. i did what i did or said what i said.' this nigga think he grown or something...

before you had a chance to respond, geto beat you to it,

"look i-i know that you might be upset and i'm sorry i didn't say anything to you before. i just... i didn't know how to tell you? you were always on me about getting 'something that has meaning' to me and that's you. but shit happened and then after a while too long had passed and it felt too late? if that makes sense? and when i first brought it up you didn't like the idea but honestly how could i not? y/n i've been in love with you since we were 15. i knew as soon as i got in the game that i was gonna take care of you and i meant that. but i never thought you'd feel the same way. kento never failed to point out that all my hookups looked like you in some way, i never thought this would happen. so i was content to love you the way i used to, but i can't believe it took TOJI of all people to stop being scared of my feelings. so these past couple months i've been tryna show you that i want you. but apparently i didn't do a good enough job."

you whined in protest. by now you had found yourself situated on sugurus lap with one hand rubbing your thigh and the other tucking your head under his chin.

"i know you don't think so ma, but if i did, we wouldn't be here right now yeah? i wanted to take it slow, have you gradually fall in love with me like those movies and books i know you like reading. i just wanted to do right by you moonlight. im sorry that all this happened before i could."

suguru held you tightly and began to rub your back to sooth you. a few tears had slipped from your eyes and you wipe them on your sleeve. youd felt his hands pulls yours down, forcing you to meet his soft gaze.

"y/n, i love you. i love how you always crochet me gifts, i love how you always wear sweaters no matter the weather, i love how trust me to help you take care of your hair, i love how you can't cook a pot of rice- don't look at me like that you know damn well you burn that shit every time. i love the way you love. i love the way you love ME. you've been my number one since the day i met you, and that hasn't changed. i know my past history with my partners has been shoddy to say the least, but never for a second think that i felt for them what i've felt for you my whole fucking life. and if it's okay with you, i'd really like the chance to show you, truly, how much i mean it when i say that i love you."

suguru gazed into your eyes with a level of honesty you've only seen a few times. you wanted to give him hell for all the slow burn that he put you through... but how can you? the love of your life just told you he feels the same, the only thing you could do was say,

"suguru, you're such a fuckin idiot. stop talking and kis-"

before you could finish, your love surged forward and connected his lips to yours. kissing suguru geto was like trying to breathe underwater, you happily let him take the lead; loving the way he dominated the kiss. his lips were smoother than you'd ever imagine (all those years of reminding him to wear chapstick payed off). you could almost feel his heart pounding against yours, the previous anxiety you'd felt melting away as you both poured yourselves into a moment that was long overdue. his scorching hands had begun to move until one rested on your lower back while the other led your legs to wrap around his waist. when you had both FINALLY decided to pull away from each other and catch your breaths, suguru couldn't contain his excitement. he quickly twisted your bodies and tackled you to the bed, wrapping you in his arms with an airy laugh,

"FUCK holy shit y/n does this mean we go together? like real bad? 'cuz i've been waiting for this moment for quite literally most of my life so i'm a little geeked right now. hOLY SHIT- can i use your back as a rolling tray? that would be so hot-" you quickly cut suguru off by kissing him again, relishing in his moans as you use his hair to guide his lips on yours. as you once again separate from each other, you smile at him. your best friend. your other half. you giggle and move your hand to lovingly caress his face before responding,

"yes, suguru. we go together REAL fucking bad."

THE END

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